Glass of Revenge
by Ginny Weasley100
Summary: What if Lyria and Sam were still alive? What if they wanted revenge on Rowan and Aelin for what they perceive as their abandonment? Set after Kingdom of Ash.
1. Chapter 1

**~1~**

The woman looked at the messengers blankly. How could it have possibly come to this? The last two centuries she had spent loving him, adoring him, waiting for him to come back to her. Yet he never had. She was well aware that her beloved had been coerced into swearing that blood oath to Maeve, but she had always believed that Maeve had ordered him to stay far away from her. That she had ordered him to have nothing to do with her.

She had always hoped though, that one day her beloved mate would make his way back to her one day. Had believed it with her entire heart for the last two hundred years. But now she was just plain baffled as to why he had not come back to her. Baffled as to why he had moved on, why he had walked away from her, had abandoned her so easily.

Starting a few months ago, she had heard rumours that her beloved mate had been freed from his blood oath by Maeve. When she had first heard these rumours, she had refused to believe them. It was almost impossible, when it came down to it, for a blood oath to be broken honourably. And when the rumours had persisted, she had had come to accept rumour as truth. But what had still confused her was why he had not come back to her the moment when he was freed – the very moment that he was able to.

So why hadn't he? The answer had come to her once again through rumours that were passed along. The answer was as blindingly simple as it was painful and hurtful. Gossip and speculation whispered that her beloved had been freed from his oath to Maeve in order to swear the blood oath to a young and beautiful foreign queen. That her beloved mate had fallen in love with this young queen, who was supposedly as beautiful as she was powerful.

But what she didn't understand, what she refused to understand was why her mate had never told her about any of this in person. Why he had never come to see her. She had always presumed that Maeve had kept her apart from her mate purposely for these last few centuries. However, that didn't explain why this supposed foreign queen that her mate was now meant serving hadn't let her mate do so much as send her a letter or attempt to contact her in any way whatsoever.

She could only conclude that this young queen either didn't know that she existed or she just didn't care. That was the only reason she could possibly think of the coldness, the distance, the lack of communication between her and her beloved. And now with the news that the messengers had brought her… She didn't know where she stood with her cherished and much-loved mate. And she needed to know where she stood with her mate. More than that, she needed her mate to be with her. She needed him to be with her more than anything else in the world. She might have lost their unborn child all of those centuries ago, but she could still have her male, her mate, in her life.

But now, the messengers had brought her the worst possible news in the entire world. The news that her mate's young queen had been crowned queen of her kingdom across the ocean, and married a Fae male in her household. That the young queen's remaining lords had insisted on the wedding being an enormous spectacle, with the entire world watching on. The joy and love of the newly wedded couple had been blatantly obvious, the messengers said, having eyes only for each other. Their love and devotion was more than evident, and the queen's people were more than willing to celebrate with them and for them.

Her mate. Her own beloved mate. The fire-breathing bitch had married her mate. She had stolen another woman's mate. How _could_ she? The fire-breathing bitch of a queen would pay. In that moment she swore to herself that she would make the queen pay for what she'd done, for what she had been put through. That foreign, fire-breathing bitch would pay for stealing the mate of another woman. It made take a while to take her revenge on the foreign queen, but she would ensure that her mate would come back to her.

Her mate belonged to her, and her alone. No else was allowed to touch him. He was hers, and she was his, and they belonged to each other. She had been so utterly miserable without him all of these centuries. She needed to get him back, by whatever means possible.

The bitch had to die. To ensure her future, to pay back for what she had put her through, the fire-breathing bitch of a queen had to die. She would do everything within her power to make sure that the bitch died.

But she knew she could not do this alone. If she was going to be able to kill the queen, she had to be able to get close to her first, had to be able to win her trust. And in order to do that, she needed an accomplice. But where on earth was she going to find an accomplice willing to help her exact her revenge? An accomplice willing to help her murder a reigning queen? It just wasn't the done thing.

The answer came to her then. The answer was as simple, as ingenious, as it was brilliant. The answer was a masterstroke of brilliance.

There was an Assassin's Guild on the Queen's continent, although it was not in her kingdom. A building full of trained killers, who would likely have no qualms about killing a young queen, and leaving a kingdom without a ruler, effectively throwing it into civil war.

Hell, she'd even heard several dark rumours that young queen had once been a member of that very same Assassin's Guild, several years ago, before she took up her throne. When the queen had gone by a different, more cowardly name. And then she had reclaimed her true name and her rightful place upon the throne of Terrasen. She had to give the young queen _some_ small measure of credit though, for her perseverance and her resilience, always coming back fighting when the world pushed her down.

She smiled to herself. She finally had herself a plan. Soon enough she would get her revenge. Soon enough she would get her mate back, and she would have the life that she had always dreamed of. The life that she had always wanted for herself. The life that she had always expected to live with her beloved mate.

Her journey to the western continent, the continent where the fire-breathing bitch queen lived and ruled was an arduous one. Her journey to the coast had been comfortable and undemanding – effortless, even – but the sea voyage had been gruelling and strenuous, to say the least. She only wished that someone had told her how god-awful sea travel was before she'd boarded the boat. If she'd know just how sick – sick to the stomach – it would make her, than she likely would have chosen another mode of transportation. If she had her way, she was never going to board another damned boat as long as she lived.

If she had her way, a great many things would begin changing soon enough. But first things first. Revenge.

First – to find the exact location of the Assassin's Guild. And then – to put the first phase of her plan into action at last.

As she stalked through the streets of Rifthold, there was a sense of peace pervading the air. A sense of peace that turned to dread as she passed. Wherever she passed, wherever she went in the city, it was the same. Peace and happiness turning to dread and fear. It was a mystery that she did not understand in the least, but one she did not care about. As long as she achieved her goal of finding allies in this wretched city, she did not care about what its people thought of her.

She did not care about these people, this city. She did not even care about this godforsaken kingdom. All she cared about was her need for revenge. As long as she got what she wanted, the rest of the people on this continent could go to hell for all she cared.

Finally locating the headquarters of the Assassin's Guild, she stopped and stared. The large, elegant mansion in a wealthy neighbourhood of Rifthold was not what she was expecting. If she had thought about it at all, she would have expected an Assassin's Guild headquarters to be in a poorer district of the city – if not in the slums. But it made sense, in a way. It was easier to hide in plain sight, after all. And no one at all – absolutely no one – would expect one of these enormous mansions to house a whole heap of ferocious killers.

Smiling viciously, she walked forward. Up the front drive, to the front door. And paused.

Cursing herself, she made herself push open the front door. She'd made it this far. She could do this. She knew she could. Open this door, and revenge would be instantly hers.

The second she pushed the front door open, she knew something was wrong. In a house of this size, she would have expected it to be buzzing with noise. To be filled with servants and assassins. But instead, she was met with silence.

She stopped and stared. It appeared that the Assassin's Guild was empty. That it was abandoned. Or maybe that was what the local assassins simply wanted her to think. Quickly getting over her shock, she walked further into the foyer, and instantly froze.

It was a trap. The empty house was a trap. And she had walked right into it. She had been a fool, but she was still Fae. And the young man with a knife to her throat was only human. She would be able to disable him easily enough.

"_Who are you?"_ The man hissed at her, viciously, hatefully. "_What are you doing here? How dare you come to this place? I will kill you if I have to. I have killed many, many people in my quest for revenge. I will not be deterred by a mere woman. Even a Fae bitch_."

Quickly, easily, she knocked him to the floor. Trained assassin he might have been, but no human man was a match for the Fae. Not even for her.

"I think the better question is," she snapped back, "Is who are _you_? What on earth has happened here? What have you done?"

He spat at her.

"I will not ask you again," she snapped. "Who are you and what have you done? I am here to look for assistance in my revenge. Do not think that you will be able to stop in my way."

At that, he paused, considering. As though trying to decide whether or not to trust her. Finally, he nodded, letting out a mirthless laugh. "My name is Sam Cortland and until recently, this was the Assassin's Guild," he said. "But four years ago, Arobynn Hamel, King of the Assassins, faked my death and I have spent the last few years as a prisoner here. My imprisonment continued for nearly a year after Hamel's death. When I learned of certain events, I fought my way free, and killed every single assassin in the Guild. Now, I seek revenge on my former lover, Celaena Sardothien, for abandoning me when she helped Hamel fake my death."

"And when you get your revenge, what will you do?" she asked, watching him like a hawk, considering what he said.

"I want my Celaena back," he said firmly. "I want my Celaena back with me where she belongs, and I want to kill the bastard who stole her from me."

She allowed a heartbeat of silence to fill the house – completely abandoned apart from the two of them – before speaking again. "Well, it appears that you're in luck. It appears that our two quests are one and the same. We can help each other, you and I."

"I'd _never_ accept help from the Fae," Sam said snappishly. "Not even one who supposedly claims that they can help me."

"Do you even know what has happened outside this building while you've been held prisoner?" she said, waving a hand at the destroyed foyer.

"Well, no, but—" was all Sam said before being interrupted.

"Of course you don't," she said calmly. "And that's where I come in."

"Where you come in what?" he said snappishly. He didn't trust her at all. He was never going to trust her. How could he?

"It may have escaped your notice, but the world outside has changed dramatically over the last few years, particularly with this last Valg war," she said. "I know it may hurt you to hear this, but Celaena Sardothien is no longer Celaena Sardothien. During the war against Erawan, she felt confident enough – or stupid enough – to return to using the name she was given at birth – Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen. And trust me, young man, you are not alone in wanting revenge against her, for she stole my soul mate from me."

"It appears you can help me in my quest for revenge more than I had anticipated," Sam said agreeably. "I accept your offer of assistance."

At that, Lyria Whitethorn, presumed mate of Rowan Whitethorn smirked. The poor, pathetic boy would have no idea what was going to hit him when he realised that his accomplice had killed the woman he desired above all else. Slaughtered in cold blood. To satisfy the demands of her revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**~2~**

Aelin sat through the meeting quietly, trying to fight her annoyance. It was not that she did not care about her kingdom, because she did. Aelin loved her kingdom dearly, and when she had finally taken up her throne, she had vowed to do everything in her power to protect Terrasen from further harm. Even if it meant giving her life for her kingdom, for Terrasen, then she would do it.

But these endless meetings with Darrow wore on her nerves. _Darrow_ wore on her nerves. Truth be told, Darrow constantly grated on her nerves. Sometimes, she thought she was only able to put up with him for the good of her kingdom.

It wasn't that Aelin hated Darrow. No, she just didn't … like him, that's all. Aelin often tried not to let her negativity toward Darrow show in public. But he was constantly telling her what a failure she was, and what a disappointment she was to her ancestors, his always letting slip how he thought he would do a better job ruling Terrasen than she ever would.

However, while Aelin did her best to hide her dislike for Darrow, he did not share her sentiment; frequently letting his snide comments out in public. She hated it, but what could she do about it? After the last decade of war and conquest that had ravaged Terrasen, he was the most powerful and influential of her surviving Lords.

She knew, deep down, what Rowan would say to her if he heard her complain about Darrow once again. Why should she put up with his verbal abuse and pettiness? If it continued to bother her, why didn't she just dismiss him?

But deep down, Aelin knew that she couldn't just dismiss Darrow without reason. Not easily at least. For if she dismissed him, out of mere shared dislike and contempt than her remaining lords would surely rise up against her. And she couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk plunging Terrasen into civil war. Not now, and not ever. And Rowan knew that too. She had explained it to him more than once. She knew Rowan didn't like it, but he had reluctantly agreed with her.

The world had already seen far too much despair, hatred and fear over the last decade, she couldn't let anymore sorrow fall upon her kingdom. She had to protect her people, who had already suffered too much, endured far too much.

Aelin thought, however, that she hated Darrow the most for not letting her forget her past, for not letting her forget her cowardice in running away from her responsibilities to her kingdom during the conquest. It was the snide comments about her cowardice that hurt the most, although she did her best not to show it.

But what Darrow had never attempted to understand, was that she'd only been eight years old at the time, her family had just been murdered. She had been young and scared. And when Arobynn Hamel had found her washed up on the banks of that frozen river, not long afterwards, the only choice that had been open to her was join his band of assassins or die.

Yes, she knew that she had been spineless and cowardly, and she knew it. And during the decade that she had spent with Arobynn, the thought of what had happened to her family, the thought of what she had left behind her, had haunted her every waking moment. But what Aelin couldn't cope with now was having her every failure slapped in her face on an almost daily basis. What Darrow didn't know, what none of them knew, was how guilt-ridden she felt about those ten years.

But then again, a lot of the older Lords and Ladies who had served her great-uncle, King Orlon, had never bothered to get to truly get to know her as the woman she now was, deliberately choosing to forever remember and condemn the eight-year-old child that she had been at the time. Not choosing to acknowledge the fact that if she hadn't made the choices she had, she would have died along with the rest of her family.

Aelin knew that she had made cowardly decisions in the past, but she was also a pragmatist, willing to do whatever it took in order to survive. And survive she did, she had taken the chance to live, she had grown up strong, and had returned to save her kingdom. And yet Darrow would never stop holding a grudge. Would never stop holding the past against her. In a way, Aelin could accept it, even if she didn't like it. The old man was just trying to protect their kingdom the best he could. It was just that they would forever clash over their different methods.

It was why Aelin sat through the meeting, struggling to control her temper. It was why she knew she had to continue to work with Darrow, despite their differences. Especially when today's meeting was so critically important.

"We have received word that there have been threats made against your Majesty," Darrow said with quiet seriousness. "And against your highness, too," he continued, nodding at Rowan, seated calmly by her side.

Sometimes Aelin didn't know how she would ever get through these meetings with Darrow without Rowan by her side, as her fire banked and roared at the news that Darrow had brought.

"How certain are you of this news?" Rowan asked quietly, watching Aelin anxiously out of the corner of his eye. Judging from the sudden ire in her eyes and her roaring magic, he figured an explosion was only mere minutes away.

He might not like Darrow, for a variety of reasons, but he had to get as much information about this possible threat out of his as he could before Aelin roasted him alive.

"Very," Darrow said, looking almost unnerved by Aelin's clear fury. "It appears that certain people – from _both_ your pasts, feel that you should have done better by them and are out for revenge. The messenger who brought this news feels that their ultimate goal is to kill the pair of you."

"And did your precious little _messenger_ know who we're meant to be looking for here?" Aelin bit out, voice dripping nothing but utter fury and outrage. "Or are we meant to be working blind here? Need I remind you that it is our very lives on the line? Do I also need to remind you that if I were to die – currently heirless as I am – that Terrasen would be plunged into civil war?"

"I am well aware of that fact, Majesty," Darrow said, attempting to hide his nerves. "And _yes_, for your information, my messenger did manage to get names. A member of the Assassin's Guild in Rifthold by the name of Sam Cortland, and a woman from Doranelle by the name of Lyria."

At that, Aelin lost control of the thin tether on her magic and the room was engulfed in flames. Any restraint, any control, gone in that instant. Any willingness to keep Darrow alive for the sake of her kingdom, because she needed him – also gone in that instant. Her rage and fury burned through all else.

As Rowan dragged the now whimpering man out of the room to safety, he just had to ask. "Are you certain of those names? It couldn't just be some sort of misunderstanding?"

"No, no, I'm sure of it. We got a positive identification of the names," Darrow whined wretchedly. It was, in a word, ludicrously pathetic, particularly for a man of such noble birth. "Why? What do those names have to do with anything?"

"Everything," Rowan replied simply. "Because they're both meant to be dead. They both died years ago. Sam about four years ago, Lyria two hundred years ago. Aelin and I both saw their corpses. There's no doubting it. They should both be dead."

"Must have been mistaken about that then," Darrow mumbled almost uncomprehendingly as he passed out on the cold stone floor of the secluded palace corridor.

At that moment a voice sounded from the room that he had just left. "What did you do with Darrow? Why did you even bother saving him? After what he just said he has to pay for—"

"You said so yourself, Aelin," Rowan called back. "You need him alive. You need to learn how to deal with him. And you can't do that if you fry him to a crisp."

"I always hate it when you're right," Aelin grumbled, flouncing out of the room and up to his side. She took a single long look at Darrow's unconscious form and groaned. "Ugh. I hate it when they're scared of me and my magic. They really should be used to it by now, after all. Why can't they just toughen up a bit?"

Rowan chuckled humourlessly at that as he saw Aedion and Fenrys heading their way from down the other end of the corridor. Good. In order to deal with this potential threat, they would need them. They would need every weapon in their arsenal in order to find out who was really threatening them and why. For Rowan didn't believe it was Sam Cortland and Lyria who was threatening them. Not for a single heartbeat. They were both certifiably dead. And the dead did not rise again. Not even to take revenge on behalf of those they were impersonating.

"We heard what happened," Aedion said as they neared. "What do you need from us?"

For the first time since Darrow had delivered the news, Aelin smiled slightly. Despite everything, despite all the horrors she had lived through, despite homicidal maniacs threatening the peace and the lives of her and her mate, at least she still had her friends. At least, despite everything, she still had people who were loyal to her and would do anything for her. People like her mate, her cousin, and her beloved friends. She needed them now more than ever right now.

She was glad, though, that she had their support. Because right now, she needed them more than ever. Because, right now, she didn't have a single clue about what to do with this news.

"I don't know what to do with this news," Aelin said quietly, hating herself for admitting the weakness, but it was true. She didn't know what to do. And she hated that she didn't know what to do. She hated feeling weak, helpless. She hated feeling powerless. Of course, she knew that there would always be threats, that people would always covet her place on the throne. But she had never expected that the people who came to challenge her would bear the names or the faces of people she had once known. People who were meant to be dead.

At that, Aedion wrapped his arm around his cousin. He hated the pain and confusion that this must be putting her through. "We'll deal with this, Aelin," he said quietly. "We'll sort this out, and we'll deal with it. One day at a time. We'll make sure that you won't have to worry."

Aelin smiled weakly up at Aedion.

Seeing that Aelin still looked particularly anxious, Aedion attempted to continue comfort his cousin. "Look, Aelin, you shouldn't be worrying about us. We know what we're doing. Like I said, we're going to deal with it. Whoever is behind this, will slip up eventually and when they do, we'll catch them. And when they're caught, they will most definitely be punished."

Aelin nodded briefly at that, although she didn't feel the least bit reassured. "So where do we go from here? I mean, what are we even meant to _do_ with this?"

"I think there was a reason that the news of this threat reached us before the actual threat did," Fenrys said calmly, speaking for the first time. "Obviously now that we know about it, we can plan some sort of counter strike. I'd say that the first thing we need to do is find out who these people actually are. I like the idea of someone impersonating our dead loved ones."

Fenrys glanced subtly sideways at Rowan as he said this. He knew just how badly the idea of someone impersonating Lyria would affect him. And he was right, Rowan was looking rather distinctly off colour, and his jaw was tightly clenched.

"I could have Ren send one of his spies," Aedion offered, watching Aelin out of the corner of his eye. "If whoever this is, if they're on this continent, they'll know. Ren will know."

"And it's important for us to know if they're even on this continent because?" Darrow said, coming to suddenly.

"Because it'll give us a chance to intercept them before they reach Orynth," Rowan said sharply.

"Not to mention the fact that if they are here, on _this_ continent, it will mean that we have to act fast, before they have a chance to reach Orynth," Fenrys said sharply. "We can't let them have a chance to harm either Rowan or Aelin."

"I might understand why we shouldn't let them near her Majesty," Darrow said tersely. "But perhaps you should inform me about why we shouldn't let them near _Prince_ Rowan. For all we know, he could he collaborating with them in order to bring doom upon Terrasen. I wouldn't put it past him. He did serve Maeve, after all."

"I _can_ hear you, you know," Rowan retorted sharply. "I am not stupid, nor am I deaf. And for your information, I would never bring harm upon Aelin or Terrasen. I love Aelin dearly – I love her with all my heart and soul. Aelin is my reason for even existing in the first place. Why on earth would I do anything to harm her?"

Darrow looked quite taken aback at that, as though he had never dreamt that Rowan actually cared about his queen and country. In fact, he almost seemed shocked at the thought that Rowan might actually have a heart. Aelin, on the other hand, looked happier than she had in ages, as though Rowan's words had given her a huge burst of confidence. Her heart swelled with love, pleasure and delighted exhilaration.

"You should stop judging people based on their past mistakes, Darrow. And start judging them based on what they do in the present," Aedion said as delicately as possible. "It would save you a whole shit-load of trouble in the long run."


	3. Chapter 3

**~3~**

To say that the start of Sam and Lyria's alliance of revenge did not go very well was an understatement of mega proportions.

Both Sam and Lyria were very strong willed people, who expected to get their own way all the time. Needless to say, that led to many disagreements, and when it came right down to it, screaming matches with nothing getting done.

In fact, almost two months after Lyria even set foot on the flipping continent; the pair of them were still stuck in Rifthold, due to their ceaseless arguing. The very fact that they hadn't left the city, that they were still … _living_ … in the _wrong _kingdom, infuriated Lyria. If it were her alone, she would have started travelling north to Terrasen, weeks ago. But she couldn't just go off by herself, because of the idiocy of the young man who was _supposed_ to assisting her with her revenge.

It wasn't that she didn't like Sam, because Lyria had respected him, even if only begrudgingly. To endure his imprisonment for so many years, and to still come out standing, to take revenge on the people who had wronged him, spoke of courage. More courage than a lot of people had. After hearing his story, she was more convinced than ever that he would make a decent ally.

But at the same time, he was the one holding her up. The only way she would be able to get her revenge and get her mate back was with his help, but she hated the way he was constantly arguing with her and questioning her judgement.

In fact, if it weren't for the boy's childish stubbornness, she would have been on the road north by now. But he believed that now that Arobynn Hamel and the other assassins of the Guild were dead, the woman he called Celaena would come running straight back to him. No matter how many times she told him that Celaena went by Aelin now, that she had chosen another man over him, Sam just wouldn't listen. No matter how many times she told him that if they didn't start north soon, they would have to wait until the mountain passes cleared in the spring.

In fact, the child was really getting on her nerves. The only thing that was keeping her in this alliance was the fact that she would need his help when it came to taking down the Terrasen Queen. The more he continued to delay the journey north, the more she wanted Aelin dead.

"Why the hell do you want to stay in this hell hole that you call a city?" Lyria snapped at him one day, several weeks after her arrival in Rifthold. "You must realise by now that she's not coming back to you. You can't live in denial forever."

"You can't continue to live in denial either, Lyria," Sam snapped back. "Your mate left you centuries ago. If he hasn't come back to you by now, what makes you think he ever will? Neither of them are ever coming back to us. I think that it's about time that we accepted it."

"How can you be so blasé about it?" Lyria shouted. "Your woman, in the arms of another man. The thought must make you just about _furious_."

"It does," Sam said through clenched teeth. "I never knew much about Celaena's past, but if she really is the queen of Terrasen, than I think her duty to her kingdom is more important to her than I am. Her duty to her kingdom is more important than the life I have always wanted to have with her. Duty above all. Certainly duty before love."

"She doesn't see it that way," Lyria snarled. "Neither of them do. Not after the pair of them willingly abandoned us the way they did. And for that, they deserve to be punished."

"But Celaena didn't abandon me. She thought I was dead, remember?" Sam said as calmly as he could. "For her to be able to abandon me, she would have had to know that I was alive, which is highly doubtful, especially considering how despicable Arobynn Hamel was. He would have encouraged the lies, particularly when it came to Celaena. Hamel considered her his personal property."

"Which makes the betrayal all the worse," Lyria insisted. "Your Celaena certainly found out the truth when she arranged the assassination of Hamel. But she never came back for you, did she? She walked away from you. She abandoned you. _And she did it willingly_."

"How are you so certain that she knows the truth by now? Hamel kept the rumours of my survival totally secret. He would never have told someone who might have let slip to Celaena that I was alive. Besides, she was hardly in this part of the city after it happened."

"What do you mean?" Lyria asked dimly.

"After my supposed 'death' Celaena was either imprisoned in the slave mines of Endovier, the glass castle, or was out of the country entirely. Besides, she would never have wanted any more to do with Arobynn, especially after what he did to her, in making sure she was captured and sent to Endovier."

"That's an _awful_ story," Lyria said gently. Then she turned around and snapped at Sam bitterly, angrily. "Too bad that it's all lies and even on the slight chance that you're telling the truth, you wouldn't be able to find someone to corroborate your story. Not after you've killed them all."

"When you find Celaena and her new lover, why don't you ask her yourself?" Sam snapped as he threw himself into the nearest armchair. "I want no more part of your plan. I want no more part of your revenge."

"But you haven't even _done_ anything yet," Lyria hissed at him. "You don't get to quit just like that, because you suddenly don't like our plan."

"I'm not quitting because I don't like _your_ plan," Sam snapped. "I'm quitting for other reasons. I'm quitting the plan because I can't stand your arrogance, or your overbearing attitude. I can barely stand being in the same room as you. If you want someone to help you get revenge, maybe you should have chosen someone who actually likes you. Celaena may have abandoned me, but she thought I was dead. She had every right to move on with her life."

"Move on with her life? Are you actually trying to be funny?" Lyria was not amused. "While your lover accepted her supposedly glorious destiny as a Queen of the Realm, she left you behind in the shadows of her tragic past."

"Must I repeat that she believed me dead?" Sam sighed. This conversation was going nowhere.

He really couldn't stand the woman. In fact, he couldn't even stand to look at her. It was always the same. She wanted what she wanted and no one would ever be able to convince her to leave well enough alone. It was true, he had been angry over Celaena's abandonment of him for the longest time. But it was only after he met Lyria that he came to realise that his need, his desire for revenge was wrong. Yes, she'd walked away from him, but at the same time she had also believed him to be dead.

That didn't mean that he wasn't angry about her abandonment of him, because he was still furious about it, but he was no longer as murderously enraged about it as he had been. It had also been four long years since Arobynn Hamel had faked his death. Four years was a long time, and not even he could honestly expect her to wait for him so long, as he had waited for her. If his Celaena was truly happy with someone else, then he had no choice but to let her go. It had taken him a long time to admit it, but the world had changed drastically in the years he had been gone, and it was time for him to change with it. It was just a pity that Lyria refused to see it.

"Even if she thought that you were dead she should have still come looking for you," Lyria said haughtily, as if she owned the world.

"Maybe you should pertain to visit Riverside Cemetery," Sam said coolly. "If you do, you could, perhaps, visit my grave. For all the world is concerned, including Celaena, I truly am dead. They all believe I died years ago. No one at all believes that I am still alive."

"If your precious little _Celaena_ truly believes that lie, then you will easily be able to shock her into taking you back when you finally present yourself to her," Lyria said, speaking far too enthusiastically for Sam's liking.

Sam frowned at her, suddenly suspicious. She truly believed every word she said. She truly believed that the pair of them stood a chance of winning back their former paramours. She didn't see why it was wrong. Didn't see that it had been years and years since they had left and they deserve happiness as much as the next person. So what if they had found their happiness with someone else, and not with them? They had no business interfering in their lives. Not anymore, at any rate.

"It's also a pity that you can't see reality for what it is," Sam said coldly. "They made their choices, and now, for better or for worse, we all have to live with the consequences of those choices for the rest of our lives."

"But you don't understand! You can never understand!" Lyria hissed viciously. "I can't let my Rowan be happy with anyone else! I need him! I cannot live without him! I cannot let him be content with someone else, because I am so unhappy!"

"I think I'm starting to see your motivation here," Sam said kindly. "You are a lonely woman. You've been lonely for a long time. But the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with chose someone else over you. I can't even begin to imagine how that must make you feel."

"No, you can't," Lyria said, nodding sadly. "But you can begin to do something useful to help me feel better about it all."

"I'm not becoming your lover, if that's what you're suggesting," Sam exclaimed, visibly alarmed.

"No, I have no need of you in that way," Lyria giggled. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell. "I only want my Rowan in my bed. But there is something else that you can do for me. Something much, much more important. Something much meaningful."

Sam stared at Lyria in confusion. He didn't trust the woman. Hell damn him, he would never trust any one of the Fae. He knew his prejudice wasn't right, but knew that he would never be able to bring himself to trust the Fae. And the Fae woman he was spending his time with gave him a bad feeling. A very bad feeling indeed.

There was just something extremely odd about Lyria. There was something slippery and slimy about her. Something manipulative and devious. Deep down in his bones, Sam Cortland knew there was something cunning and calculating about Lyria. He was never going to be able to bring himself to trust her. He felt as though she was using him, and not just to get the revenge that she claimed she so passionately desired.

Sam hated to admit it, but there was something wrong with Lyria's brain. Her mental capacities. There was something deeply wrong with the way she thought, the way she believed her craziness to be the absolute truth. And perhaps, most importantly, the way she consistently refused to listen to anyone else's point of view.

And that scared him, perhaps more than anything else at the moment. At least that's what he thought. A few moments later, Lyria scared him more than she ever had before.

Lyria simply stared at Sam in a peculiar way, almost as though she were studying some strange artefact from a far off land. Her gaze seemed almost to brand him, seemed to burn into skull and melt his brain. Several minutes passed, and the sensation didn't go away. In fact, it seemed to get more intense with every passing second. If he didn't know better, Sam would have said that it was Lyria doing it to him. But she couldn't be, could she?

But then Lyria began chanting in some sort of foul language. The language she used wasn't just foul though; it was polluted, tainted as though it was not meant for this world. It was a language that was not meant for any living ears.

Despite his uncertainty, despite his reluctance to assist the strange Fae female in her pathetic quest for revenge, the more she chanted, the more he found himself willing to help her. More than help her, he was willing to do anything she could ask of him. More and more willing to do anything she asked him to do, no matter how foul or evil it was.

At the same time however, he knew that what she was doing to him was wrong. It was like he had no control over his actions, despite knowing that what she was making him do was wrong. But due to the spell she was weaving over him, he was unable to stop himself from finally agreeing to help her with her insane plan to bring harm to the one person he cared about most in the world.

He had never felt more ashamed of himself, but he now found himself sworn to helping her gain her revenge against his will and without his consent, and there was no turning back. There never would be. Not for him, at any rate.


	4. Chapter 4

**~4~**

Up north in Terrasen they found the autumn months to be little more than a waiting game. After learning that the threats had been made, they had all expected one of the perpetrators to have made their first move by then. But instead, nothing.

There were several members of the royal court who believed the silence was a good thing. That no news was good news. That it likely meant that whoever it was behind the threats – if they were even who they said they were – had decided to back off and do nothing. That they were all hot air, and that no matter how much they threatened, they wouldn't actually carry through on their threats.

Both Aedion and Ren were quietly hopeful that the threat would eventually pass – and perhaps sooner than they all thought. It had already been a number of months since the news of the threats had come to light, after all, and absolutely nothing had happened since. And since the autumn snows were about to hit them, they thought it was highly unlikely that anything would happen at all. After all, if whoever was behind the threat was already in Terrasen, they would have surely made their presence known by now, and if they weren't, it would be almost impossible to reach Orynth, by land or by sea, for several months. Not until the mountain passes cleared in early spring, at the very least. And the seas were nearly impassable from late November to the middle of May.

So no, Aedion and Ren were not as worried as some of the others. They were confident that the threat would not come to pass. And if it did, they would be more than able to handle it.

Lysandra, on the other hand, was almost paralysed with fear about her best friend's safety, and in fact was having immense difficulty in concealing her fears and worries from her young ward. Evangeline was a perceptive child, and reacted to the stress and tension in the adults around her. But despite Evangeline's reaction to their unease and anxiety, Lysandra consistently refused to tell Evangeline what was going on, claiming that she did not want to worry the girl. But at the same time, she was unable to see how her refusal to speak about what was going on was affecting the child.

Darrow's reaction to the news, however, had been one of the most surprising. Ever since Aelin had terrified the wits out of him for bringing the news of the threat against her and Rowan, Darrow had almost turned into a downright sycophant. _Almost_ being the imperative word. Especially considering that he was completely and utterly terrified of her.

Every day since then Darrow did whatever Aelin told him to. No matter if it was a serious matter, or just a completely stupid old order that she made up just to get him off her back, he did it without a single complaint. Whatever orders Aelin gave him, he just did it with a smile on his face while leaking terror and fear all the time.

Despite his wife's anger at Darrow, Rowan knew deep down that they would have to do something about Darrow's behaviour sooner or later. While he knew that Aelin had not intended to frighten Darrow so badly, it was not such a good idea leave his fears unassuaged. No matter how dedicated and dependable Darrow was, a man as frightened as he was would easily roll over and play both sides of the fence. A man as frightened as he was would easily betray his rightful queen without so much as blinking.

And considering the current death threats against them, that was not a good idea. Considering the current political climate, it was not a good idea for any of Aelin's nobles to deceive and betray their queen.

This last Valg war might have been over, but that didn't mean that there weren't still a lot of anger and bitterness out there. The bitterness of those who had lost loved ones towards those who had survived. The bitterness of the ordinary people who had lost everything they cared about towards the kings and queens who had sent them to war, to their deaths. There were plenty of people who held grudges, plenty of people who wanted someone to pay for what they had lost. Who wanted some justice to prevail. Who wanted revenge, and would do anything in order to bring it to pass. Including kill their queen and her consort.

Rowan didn't want Darrow to become one of them. He might not like the bastard, but he knew that his support and backing was crucial to keeping Terrasen's monarchy – and Aelin's rule – afloat. Maybe things had been different before Adarlan's invasion and the assassinations of Aelin's family, but they weren't. Aelin was right. They needed Darrow alive and on their side.

And for that to happen, they did not need Darrow to decide that his life would be better off with both him and Aelin out of the way.

Suddenly Rowan growled as he paced in front of the fireplace in his and Aelin's chambers in the palace of Orynth. How could this have happened? It wasn't as though he had never expected such threats to occur, but how had it happened so quickly, so suddenly?

But who the hell was making these threats? Who the hell was threatening his Aelin? Were they even who they said they were? And if they were who they said they were, how the hell was it possible? Both Lyria and Sam were meant to be long since dead and buried. Both he and Aelin had seen their bodies all those years ago, confirmed their deaths.

It seemed almost impossible that either of them could have survived. What Rowan wanted to know was _how_. How they had managed to survive their deaths? How had they managed to survive at all? And if they had managed to survive, by whatever stroke of fate, why did they want him and Aelin dead? They'd believed them dead after all, they had every right to move on with their lives.

Why now though? If this threat really was about Lyria and Sam and how they thought him and Aelin had wronged them, why strike now? Why hadn't they revealed themselves earlier? He'd believed Lyria had died over three hundred years ago, and Sam had supposedly died nearly four years ago. So what so special about this particular moment in time?

If they had truly wanted to punish either him or his beloved Aelin, for whatever reason in particular, why hadn't they done so before now?

Rowan groaned as he threw himself down on the sofa beside the roaring fire. There was no use in ruminating about the threats. There were just too many likelihoods and probabilities, too many questions without answers. They didn't even know for sure if it really was Lyria and Sam behind this. Aedion and Ren's usual spy network hadn't been able to confirm their identities, after all. Just that the two people behind the threats were still encamped in Adarlan's capital of Rifthold. In fact, they were even ensconced in the old headquarters of the Assassin's Guild. Even if the Guild's assassins weren't involved, if someone was merely impersonating dead people, it was still pretty damning that they were using that building. In fact, everything about this was fairly damning.

It was still pretty galling, Rowan thought, that they hadn't even managed to get a confirmation on their identities yet. That they were still questioning if they were who they said they were. The spies employed by Aedion and Ren were usually good at their jobs. Better than good actually. So why couldn't they find out if these two people were who they actually said they were? It shouldn't be that hard! In fact identifying people should be the damn easy part! So what the hell was the hold up here? Rowan couldn't see it.

Right now, he doubted that he would ever be able to figure out what the hell was going on – if they were even who they said they were, why they decided to strike now. After all, what was so important about the current time? Why hadn't they struck before now, if they really wanted him and Aelin out of the way?

At that moment the door creaked open, and Rowan looked up to Aelin as she entered the room. She smiled sadly at him as she sat down beside him.

"Are you still worrying about this threat, whatever it is?" Aelin asked him gently.

"You can't say that you aren't, Aelin," Rowan muttered irritably. "Because I know you _are_ worried about it. Don't even attempt to deny it."

"Yes, I am worried about it," Aelin replied simply. "But I have to trust that they won't succeed. We will find them, whoever they are."

"Sometimes I wish I had your faith," Rowan murmured, more calmly than before. Being with Aelin always managed to soothe his nerves. Ever since he met her, Aelin's presence alone was always enough to comfort and soothe him.

"I don't know if it's faith, exactly," Aelin said softly. "I don't know about you, but despite my past, I can't live each day expecting the worst to happen. I have to have hope that a better future exists. Somehow the future has to be better than the past, better than the present. Especially now."

"Why now?" Rowan asked her intently, a glimmer of hope back in his voice. "Aelin, what's happened? And please don't lie to me."

"I would never lie to you, Rowan," Aelin said quietly, leaning her head against Rowan's shoulder. He smiled down at her as he wrapped his arms around her. "Especially not now."

"Why especially not now? Does it have something to do with these threats? Do you know something that I don't?" Rowan asked her again. Her constant sidestepping and evading was starting to seriously irritated. He loved Aelin intensely, but sometimes she seriously annoyed the hell out of him. He was seriously starting to panic, and right now, that was not a good thing. Panic could get you killed. "Please just tell me. _Please_, Aelin."

"I'm telling you, Rowan, that I'm not currently talking about these threats, whoever they're really from," Aelin said, grumbling slightly. In a way, Aelin found Rowan's always present worry and panic over her safety, no matter how adorably sweet, to be rather annoying. She knew how to take care of herself – and he knew it too. "So can you please just let me tell you without going on, without interrupting me?"

Rowan nodded impatiently. Aelin waited a few moments, however, to make sure that Rowan wasn't going to interrupt, before continuing.

"Rowan…" It was harder than Aelin had expected to actually come out and say this, but she knew she had to. If she didn't come out and tell Rowan now, she knew she likely never would. And she wanted Rowan to hear it from her, and not someone else. Aelin took a deep breath and blurted out her news. "Rowan, I'm pregnant."

At that particular moment in time, Rowan looked as though he couldn't believe his ears. "What…? Did you just say what I think you said…?"

"You heard me right, Rowan," Aelin said, smiling softly up at him. "And before you ask me, I'm definitely sure. And I know that it's not really the best timing, what with these threats still hanging over our heads—"

"It's never really going to be good timing," Rowan said, smiling hugely. "I never really wanted children before, but when I met you, things changed. Every day, you make me happier than I could have ever imagined. I _can't_ believe just how happy you make me, just by being my wife and now we're going to have a baby. Our baby. I just … I can't describe how happy I am right now."

"You mean that … that you actually _want_ this baby?" Aelin asked, starting to feel relieved. She had been worried about how Rowan would react to the news. "It's just that, what with Lyria supposedly dying when she was pregnant…" She trailed off uncertainly.

"Aelin!" Rowan laughed loudly. "Please don't tell me that you've been worrying about how I'd react to finding out that we're going to be parents?" Rowan then looked his wife in the eye, hands on her shoulders. "I love you Aelin. And despite everything, despite what I've been through, I already love this baby too. I want this child as much as I think you do, too."

"Really?" Aelin asked, embarrassedly. She was starting to feel a bit foolish about worrying about it. "I suppose I really should have had a bit more faith in you."

"I know these are strange times," Rowan said, pulling Aelin into his embrace. "But one thing I know, is that I never want you to doubt me. I am never going to leave you. I love you, and there's enough love to spare for this child too. We're going to deal with these threats and welcome this child into this world."

"This isn't going to be an easy year, is it?" Aelin asked, chuckling slightly.

"No, it is not," Rowan agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

**~5~**

After Lyria used her compellability magic on Sam, he felt like he had lost his free will, almost as though he had lost his mind. In a way, he felt as though he couldn't control his own body. But he couldn't break free, no matter how hard he tried. Sam was literally enslaved to Lyria in body and mind and there was nothing he could do about it.

There was, however, a small part of Sam's mind that Lyria couldn't touch. Whether that was the part of his mind that contained Sam's soul, he didn't know. But, at the very least, he was glad that he could keep some – if not most – of his thoughts guarded and private.

He was glad, because at least it meant that Lyria didn't know that he no longer had any desire to exact revenge on Aelin or her new lover for abandoning him. It had been a long time, after all, and Aelin had a right to move on with her life. To begin afresh. Of course, Sam wished that Aelin had remained Celaena, that she had never claimed her birthright. He wished that Aelin had remained with him, had kept loving him forever. But even he was aware that when Arobynn had faked his death, he could not expect her to keep waiting for him forever. Not when she had believed him to be dead.

And Aelin's new lover… he had believed Lyria to be dead as well. Had believed her to be dead for far longer than Aelin had believed him to be dead, as well. He had a right to move on with his life as much as Aelin did. But Lyria couldn't see that. All she could see was how she herself had been wronged. She was unable to see past her own wounded pride and selfishness. She remained unable to realise that sometimes people changed as time passed.

As Aelin and her lover had both changed over the years. They had both suffered greatly over the years, and they had risen above their pain and suffering and had only grown stronger for it. After everything they had been through, Sam thought that they deserved to be happy.

He just thought that it was a pity that Lyria couldn't see it. But then again, he had already long since realised that Lyria never thought of any one but herself. She far too snobby and stuck up and selfish too think of anyone else's happiness. All she cared about at the moment was the revenge she desired. She didn't see the lives she would destroy in the process. And she definitely didn't care about anyone other than herself.

But as much as Sam would have liked to give her a piece of his mind, he couldn't. She controlled his every word, his every action. No matter how much he may have wanted to have wanted to stand up to her… No matter how much he may have wanted to abandon her and her horrible schemes… He just couldn't. He had to obey her every word, her every command… Her wish was his command.

As long as that angry and raging part of his mind remained his own, he thought he might be able to warn Aelin and her new lover somehow about the threat that Lyria posed to them. He felt sure that they wouldn't have heard of the general throat against them by now, but perhaps he could somehow warn them of the specifics, as Lyria came up with the details of her plan.

But how would he be able to do that, what with Lyria controlling him the way she did? He may not have a plan at the moment, but knew that he would most definitely have to be clever about it. When the time finally came to send the warning, he only hoped he would somehow be able to pull it off.

As Sam listened to Lyria prattle on about her plan to ensnare Aelin and her lover, he wished he could groan in frustration. He wished that she would just shut the hell up. If only he had control over his body he would scream in frustration and despair. Ever since Lyria had taken control of his body, he had felt as though he were suffocating, as though he were drowning, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. He hated the feeling even more than he hated being bound to such a perversely wicked woman.

In a way, though, he felt glad that he had managed to delay Lyria so much before she had finally used her compulsion magic on him. It meant that the mountain passes in Terrasen were snowed in and literally impassable.

Fortunately this meant that they were stuck in Adarlan until the winter was over. Unfortunately this meant that Sam was currently stuck listening to Lyria complain and moan about what the delay in 'their' plans. Deep down, Sam wished that Lyria wouldn't call her plans _theirs_. Because after all, he wanted to have nothing to do with those nefarious plans. If Sam truly hoped, that the colder winter months would dampen Lyria's enthusiasm for revenge, it still didn't mean that he held out much hope that it would.

Because Sam believed, deep down that nothing would change Lyria's course. She was far too stubborn, far too determined, far too set on her course. But a part of Sam was aware of the irony – for these were the very same traits that he had once loved in Celaena. Celaena's independence, her ferocity, and her determination. The way Celaena had never seemed to need anyone. He had loved her, but he should have never believed that he loved her back. Should have never believed that she would have stayed with him forever. He had to let her move on with her life, the way Lyria needed to let her former lover move on with his life. Even if she so consistently refused to see it.

Sam just had to pray that he would be able to shrug off Lyria's magic by the time the winter was over. Because if the winter finished and he was still under the Fae woman's thrall… He didn't like to think of the consequences to the people he cared about.

It was all that he could hope for at the moment. For Sam currently had no other choice. He would have to eventually try to stand up to the woman currently holding him hostage, if only he were able to shake of the magic that bound him by then.

At that moment, however, Lyria was distracted from her poisoned ranting by a sudden uproar from the streets outside. Sam could only be glad of the interruption, being thoroughly sick and tired of the sound of her voice.

"What the name of the holy gods is that appalling noise?" Lyria snarled. Sam smirked slightly, pleased that she had at least taken her attention off of him for a moment. "What is _wrong_ with this city? Why can't these people behave with the proper decorum and refinement?"

"Most of the people who live in this neighbourhood are very poor," Sam said quietly. "They struggle to survive from month to month. They can barely afford to feed themselves. The city's merchants and nobles live in the more elegant and moneyed districts of the city. The wealthiest nobles either reside at their country estates or at the royal palace. These slums are the domain of the city's poorest citizens."

"If these people cannot even afford to eat, then perhaps they ought to eke out their meagre lives elsewhere," Lyria said in a snobby tone. "The poor and the unworthy do not deserve to reside in the kingdom's great capital city."

Sam frowned at this as a stranger burst into the mansion – they were still using the abandoned Assassin's Guild as their headquarters. He didn't say it, but he didn't believe that Lyria should be bringing in a stranger in as it could possibly lead to their capture. Also, her rude snobbery about the city's poor was uncalled for. He could tell from the clothing that Lyria wore, that she may have been wealthy once, but that she had been extremely poor for a very long time. Perhaps ever since her former lover had turned his back on her. Right now, he could hardly blame the man if that were the case.

The strange man was currently prattling away to Lyria. With a great effort, Sam forced himself to pay attention to what they were saying. It might prove to be important somehow.

"Word has it that King Dorian Haviliard has announced his announced his betrothal to the Witch Queen Manon," the stranger said emphatically.

"And am I meant to know who these people are?" Lyria said in a forbidding tone.

"You should already have learned these names, seeing as you're now on this continent," the stranger said sternly. "Didn't your boy over there tell you?" he asked, jerking his head towards Sam.

"I don't keep him around for _mere gossip_," Lyria said in a sickeningly sweet tone. "Isn't that why I keep _you_ around, Athril? Now I would appreciate it if you would just tell me who and what you are actually talking about."

"King Dorian Haviliard of Adarlan is to marry the Queen of the Witches," Athril said slowly, as though to make it easier for Lyria to understand.

"And where the hell is this _Adarlan_ that you are speaking of," Lyria said primly.

If Sam didn't know any better, he would have said that she sounded almost confused in that moment. In fact, he very much wanted to laugh. The very thought that Lyria knew the name of the city that she was currently residing in, but not the name of the actual kingdom was just too good to be true. The supposedly know-it-all woman didn't know something so basic as the names of the continent's kingdoms. Oh yes, Sam very much wanted to laugh at that.

It seemed like the stranger – Athril – thought it was pretty amusing as well. He smirked slightly at Sam before turning back to Lyria. "Adarlan is the kingdom that you are currently residing in," Athril said firmly. "This city of Rifthold is the capital city."

"I don't understand," Lyria said, baffled. "Are we not currently in Terrasen then?"

"Of course not!" Athril scoffed. "Adarlan shares its northern border with Terrasen. It's about a two week ride away. Terrasen's capital city of Orynth is about another week after that."

"Then why are we still standing around?" Lyria demanded. "Why haven't we left this city yet? Why are we even still _here?_"

"Because it's the middle of winter!" Athril exclaimed loudly. "The mountain passes into Terrasen are currently impassable. Those mountains won't be clear until the middle of spring, at the very least."

"How could any one possibly know that?" Lyria scowled viciously.

"_I_ knew that," Sam muttered bitterly. He was quite surprised that he was able to work against Lyria's magic in order to be able to speak out against her like that. "I would have been able to tell you that if only you asked me."

"_How dare you speak out against me?"_ Lyria hissed at him. Sam stumbled back a step at the sound of the anger in her voice. _"How dare you defy me? How dare you even consider yourself my equal? How dare you think that a mere human, such as yourself, was the equal of a centuries old Fae woman like me?"_

Lyria moved to slap Sam around the face, but Athril stepped into her path. "No," he said firmly. "You will not touch the boy. If you so much as lay a finger on him, you will never know a moment's peace. If you abuse another man, you will never remember what peace is like. And finally, I want you to remember that if you touch a man against his will and without his consent _I will kill you for it_."

"Get out," Lyria hissed. "Get out. I never want to see you ever again."

"Oh, I guarantee that you will want to see me again," Athril said assuredly as he walked toward the door. "Especially when I tell you that Queen Aelin and Rowan are expecting their first child together."

The look on Lyria's face was indescribably outraged. Lyria's clear displeasure was like a balm to Sam's wounded soul.


	6. Chapter 6

**~6~**

Over the next several days, Sam learned the true depth and breadth of Lyria's viciousness. It wasn't enough for Lyria to kick Athril out of the house upon being informed of Aelin's pregnancy. No, she had to punish Sam just for being there when the news was delivered.

It started off small, with insults, name calling and constant criticism. In a way, it made Sam feel humiliated. It didn't matter that there was no one around to witness the degradation – it always made him feel less of a man.

What with the verbal degradation, isolation and magical compulsion, Sam was definitely feeling used and abused. If anyone had been there to witness Sam's treatment at Lyria's hands, they may have considered it a form of abuse. But Sam no longer cared. He didn't want to put up the insults and degradation any longer, but he was unable to see a way out of it. Being unable to run, being forced to stay and put up with the vicious anger of the beautiful woman… The vicious anger that was solely directed at him… It was the worst thing that Sam had ever experienced.

It had been _days_ now – if not _weeks_ – since Athril had delivered the news about Aelin's pregnancy, and he had not yet been back. Probably because he had _known_ how Lyria would react, and did not want to be on the receiving end of her temper. And because Lyria was unable to vent her anger on Athril, it was always Sam on the receiving end.

Deep down, Sam thought that this was the worst year of his entire life. He had put up with the years of imprisonment at the hands of Arobynn and the other assassins. Those years of imprisonment had left Sam feeling weary and fatigued. Those years had also left him shattered and broken. After he had finally snapped he had killed all those who had continued to hold him hostage after Arobynn's own murder, thinking that he would at last be able to reunite with his beloved Celaena. But those who had kept him imprisoned had merely spat in his face as they said Celaena didn't exist anymore. Had spat in his face as he killed them all, one by one.

And then when this beautiful Fae woman had turned up on the doorstep of the Assassin's Keep, offering him news of his precious Celaena – as long he helped her exact her revenge first. He had been exceptionally displeased when he had learned who Celaena really was. How could she keep something so momentous from him? Hadn't she trusted him at all?

Sam was not just shocked about the revelation that his beloved Celaena was royalty, he was enraged. She, who had known his hatred and disdain for royalty better than anyone, was, in fact, royalty herself? And she had _lied_ to him about it for _years?_ Who, in their right mind, _did_ something like that?

He thought he had known her, he had loved her, but in the end, it turned out that he didn't know her at all. Despite initially being angry about Celaena lying to him for their entire lives, and wanting to revenge himself upon her, he now felt nothing at all. Nothing but sadness for what could have been. It was wrong to be so angry at her for moving on with her life. She had as much a right to peace and happiness as he did.

Even if their lives were no longer entwined with each other's, they each had a right to peace and happiness. They both deserved that, after everything they had been through.

But, Sam was not happy. After the years of imprisonment, he no longer knew _how_ to be happy. He did not know how to _be_ happy.

Dreaming about Celaena and the life he wanted to have with her was the only thing that had kept him sane during those long years of imprisonment. And now that he was free, only to discover that everything he thought he had known about Celaena was a lie, he had nothing more to live for.

He had been illegally imprisoned by Arobynn and the other assassins for years, in the house that he had grown up in – the house that had been the only home that Sam had ever known. After suffering the loneliness and isolation for years, he had fought his way free, killing all those who had held him prisoner. He had gotten his revenge. But revenge didn't taste as good as he had thought it would. And now, a gorgeous Fae woman was holding him prisoner, trapped within his own mind, a mere tool for her to use in order to gain her own revenge.

He did not want to help her anymore. He did not want to be in her presence for a second longer than he had to be. If he never saw her again, it would be far too soon. But she had ordered him to remain in the house, and he had no choice, but to obey. So, despite everything that he had suffered, he was still trapped within his own mind, thanks to her, and trapped within the very house in which he had been held prisoner for so long, with no end in sight. It was beginning to feel as though he would never know true freedom. It was beginning to feel as though he would never know what the outside world was like now. A lot could change in four years. A lot _had_ changed in the last four years, and he was fated to never know the full extent of how far those changes extended, or how deep they went.

Sam already knew how far the changes went in himself. How broken he was. He was certainly not fit for polite society. Or for any society at all.

No, Sam certainly didn't have anything to live for anymore. He had already been a prisoner for years, and now he was imprisoned in his own mind as well as physically. The Fae woman that he hated beyond measure was already verbally abusing him and he wondered how long it would be before she started abusing him physically as well.

It didn't matter that no one was there to witness the abuse. No, it was all about the power with her. The power she wielded over him. The way she was able to control him.

Sam briefly wondered if that was the attraction that the prince Celaena had married held for Lyria. If it was the power that he had undoubtedly wielded long before the wedding. If the influence he had once held as a member of Maeve's inner circle was what had first attracted her to him. But her attraction had clearly long since become just as big an obsession with her as her need for revenge was.

And he hated her for it. Everyone had a right to happiness, including Celaena and her husband, with the child they were about to have. Why couldn't she see just how proud and arrogant she was being, believing that she knew best, and anyone who defied her by telling her otherwise as a traitor? He had never hated anyone as much as he hated Lyria at the moment.

And she didn't even really see who he was beneath the spell she had placed on him. All she had ever seen when she looked at him was a tool to be used and abused. And despite having had enough of it, and believing he had no reason to live any more, he just couldn't see another way out of it, no matter how hard he tried.

Truth be told, this was a lie.

Because, despite being brought up as an assassin, taught to kill without mercy, Sam had always been taught that it was the greatest sin of all to take one's own life. That you would burn in Hellas's fiery realm forevermore if you did.

It was almost strange in a way, when Sam really thought about it. Growing up as an assassin, Death had always been a constant companion for Sam. But now, he was far too frightened and cowardly to greet Death as the old friend he was. If he had had even an ounce of courage left, he would have welcomed the fire and taken his own life.

But after everything he had been through, Sam was a confirmed coward, and he couldn't do it.

At that moment, the door to the drawing room, where Sam had cloistered himself swung open and Lyria sauntered in, looking as though she owned the world. Sam rather thought that she looked him over as though he were a piece of meat.

Lyria sashayed over to Sam and looked down on him considering. Sam just turned his head. He'd rather not look at her, ever. Lyria crouched down to Sam's level before speaking.

"Did you know," Lyria said slowly, chewing over her words, "that when my beloved Rowan walked out on me, I was pregnant with our first child? Not that he knew, of course. _Our_ kind can normally scent that kind of thing on one another, but Rowan was so stupidly arrogant that he didn't even notice. He just flew off to war without so much as a farewell, and when he came back… Rowan didn't come back to me. He was already bound to Maeve. Our child didn't survive the shock. I had a miscarriage. And ever since then, I have devoted myself to bringing Rowan back into my loving embrace, where he belongs."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sam said quietly, "but I don't see what this has to do with me."

"Don't you?" Lyria laughed maniacally. "My Rowan left me, and I lost a child. Maeve died in the war, and he tied himself to your woman. In order to be able to bring Rowan back to me, and therefore your lover girl back to you, I need to have a child. Rowan's child."

"Seeing as Rowan doesn't even know that you're alive, that's not possible," Sam said quietly. He didn't have the strength left in him to be forceful. He once would have been, he knew. "You know as well as I do, that it's not possible."

"Ah, but I've realised that it is possible, after all," Lyria said lyrically. "You are going to help me father Rowan's first child. When he hears that his mate and child are still alive, after all these centuries, Rowan will feel honour bound to come back to us. The safety of a Fae male's mate and child comes before all other considerations."

"But what about the fact that Rowan is having a baby with Aelin?" Sam asked miserably. "Surely he'll also be honour bound to care for her and their child. Especially considering that they're married. Have likely been married for a while now."

"That won't matter," Lyria trilled. "Not when my beloved Rowan will undoubtedly come running back to me upon hearing the news that his mate and child have returned from the dead."

"You're insane," Sam muttered.

"You won't be calling me insane when you've got your precious Aelin back in your arms," Lyria warned.

"Don't worry," Sam muttered. "I'll likely still be calling you insane, no matter what."

"Now, are you going to help assist me in conceiving a child, or not?" Lyria snapped. "It _does_ take two to tango, after all."

Sam just looked away again. The last thing on earth he wanted was to have sexual relations with Lyria. Consensual or otherwise.

The last thing Sam was aware of was Lyria reinforcing her compellability magic on him, and he knew no more.


	7. Chapter 7

**~7~**

The news that Aelin and Rowan had been waiting for had finally arrived at last. Aedion's and Ren's spies had finally managed to knock down the identities of those threatening them.

Much to their utmost confusion and to Aelin's distress, Aedion and Ren's spy network confirmed that those threatening them were indeed Sam Cortland and Lyria. But how they had returned from the dead, they did not know. As they had already believed, it was almost impossible to raise the dead, begging the question of how? _How_ was this possible? How was it possible for them to come back from the dead? Had they merely faked their deaths in order to torment them?

And what the hell was going on here? That was all they wanted to know. How this was possible, and what was going on.

Needless to say, Aelin had been quite distressed by the revelation. Sam had been her first love, and it had been her need for revenge after his death that had seen her sent to Endovier. Finding out that he was in fact, still alive, brought out complicated emotions in her.

For days after finding out that Sam was, in fact, still alive, and was most likely out for revenge, broke her heart. She tortured herself, wondering how things might be different if she had known that he was still alive. Aelin briefly wondered if Arobynn had merely faked Sam's death in order to break her spirit, and bind her more firmly to his will. And if that were true, the thought made her glad that Arobynn had been dead for the last two years.

Despite having no regrets of her life, it made Aelin wonder what her life would have turned out like if Sam had not supposedly died. It made her wonder if she would have ever met her friends, met Rowan. If Sam had not died, altering the course of her life, would she have ever found her courage and taken up her rightful throne?

Ever since Aelin had found out the truth, she had been questioning herself so much. Questioning all of the decisions that she had made in the last four years – wondering how differently things could have been if Sam had never 'died'. All the questions kept floating around her head, refusing to let her go.

Deep down, Aelin knew that she was not to blame for the events of the past few years. She knew that she was not to blame for whatever Sam had been through. But at the same time, Aelin wondered what she had done wrong, what had made Sam turn on her so spitefully that he wanted her to die. What had made him hate her so much. And it broke her heart, knowing that the boy she had loved so much now hated her so much.

Aelin didn't know who she could talk to about this. She didn't want to burden Rowan, as she knew that he was struggling with the knowledge of Lyria's strange return from death as much as she was with Sam's. She knew just how much Rowan adored her, knew that he would listen to her fears and doubts – for he would always listen to whatever she had to say.

But despite knowing how much Rowan loved her, she wondered if Lyria's confirmed return had changed him as much as Sam's return had changed her. Wondered if it had brought out the same confusions and doubts in him as it had in her. If he had suddenly found himself wondering about what _might_ have been. What _might_ have happened, if Sam and Lyria had not 'died' and left them alone – broken, wandering alone, and unnecessarily grieving.

For the supposed deaths of Sam and Lyria had destroyed them both. It had broken them, leaving them wandering a suddenly strange and confusing world. It had left Rowan open and vulnerable to Maeve's wiles. And it had left her, Aelin, open to Arobynn Hamel's manipulations and got her carted off to the Endovier slave mines.

If Aelin were being completely honest with herself, she knew that nearly everything that had happened in their lives since the supposed deaths of Sam and Lyria had been orchestrated by Maeve and Arobynn. A vicious Valg Queen and a scheming, cunning King of the Assassins.

In the years after her family had been killed and Terrasen had been invaded and conquered by Adarlan, other hands had held Aelin's reins. Even now, she could barely believe how badly Arobynn had manipulated her. He had turned her into nothing but a killer. And then, it was because of him that she'd lost Sam and been sent to Endovier.

And if Chaol and Dorian hadn't taken her out of Endovier when they had, she would undoubtedly have died. And from the moment she'd gotten out of Endovier, she'd been forced to partake in that ridiculous competition to be King's Champion.

And then, several months after she had won that stupid, _stupid_ competition, Nehemia had died. Chaol had sent her across the sea to Wendlyn, where she had been set upon taking back her throne. While she didn't regret what happened, she still couldn't help wondering what would have happened if she had made different choices. If things would have been different.

Aelin was so lost in her thought that she didn't even notice that someone had joined her until a voice started talking at her. Blinking, she looked up to see her cousin Aedion sitting beside her. As usual, he always knew when she needed someone to talk to. He was always there for her, no matter what.

"Why?" Aelin whispered softly, interrupting Aedion mid-sentence. "Why did this have to happen now? They were meant to be dead. They were _supposed_ to be dead. How could it happen? This was meant to be our happy time."

"I don't know why it had to happen now, Aelin," Aedion said sadly. He hated seeing his cousin so distraught. "I don't know why or how this happened, but I do know that you should probably talk to Rowan about this. He is going through the same thing you are, after all."

"I can't do that, Aedion!" Aelin hissed. "I can't do that to him, Aedion. This has already been so hard on him, I can't make it worse."

"You don't want to make this harder for him than it already his?" Aedion said in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Right now, you need to be able to talk to Rowan. By the gods Aelin, you're having his baby!"

"Rowan said he was happy about the baby, Aedion," Aelin said quietly. "But at the same time, I can't help worrying, because of Lyria supposedly dying when _she_ was pregnant with Rowan's child… I know that Rowan loves me and wants this baby as much as I do, but I just can't stop worrying…"

"I can see why you'd be worried," Aedion murmured. "But I can also see just how worried the pair of you have been about this. I honestly think that you'll feel better if you can speak honestly to each other about everything."

"Are you sure, Aedion?" Aelin asked. "I don't want to say the wrong thing or to make things worse between us without meaning to."

"You wouldn't make things worse," Aedion replied simply. "Rowan adores you. He'd do anything for you. Anything at all – as long as it meant staying by the side of the woman he loves. You, Aelin."

"I love him, Aedion. You know I do," Aelin whispered. "But right now, I can't help doubting everything."

"And I can't blame you for that," Aedion said. "But you really should mention it to Rowan. He's likely having the same doubts that you do."

"I guess that's true," Aelin muttered.

Then a voice suddenly sounded from the shadows and both Aelin and Aedion jumped, startled. "You're right. You've been scared about everything that's going on, but so have I. And I've been so wrapped up in my own issues that I've barely thought about what you must be going through. I forgot that this must be as hard for you as it has been for me. I forgot about you, and I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Rowan," Aelin murmured, "I suppose I should have been more honest with you earlier. I've just been so scared… I didn't know what to do."

"If you're going to be okay, then I think I'll take my leave," Aedion said, rising to his feet.

"No!" Aelin exclaimed loudly. "No, please stay. Both of you," she said, looking between Rowan and Aedion. "I need you."

"I think that's the first time you've ever admitted to needing someone," Aedion joked as he and Rowan sat on either side of Aelin.

"Hear, hear," Rowan said. Despite the somewhat tense mood that had lain over the palace in recent months, Aedion could have sworn that both Rowan and Aelin looked the happiest they had been in ages at that moment.

"Being scared about what's going on isn't the only thing that's been bothering me," Aelin said in a little voice. "I just can't help wondering what would have happened if Sam had never 'died'. How different everything would have been. If I would have met Chaol and Dorian, or the pair of you. If Erawan and Maeve would have been defeated. Even if I would have taken back my throne. It all just keeps going round and round inside my head. I just can't stop thinking about it."

"I wouldn't let Darrow hear about that last one, if I were you," Aedion smirked. "Especially not when he still believes he'd be a better monarch for Terrasen then you."

"Great," Aelin mumbled. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Not."

"I wouldn't worry about Darrow, if I were you," Rowan said cheerfully. "Darrow's coming round to our side by slow degrees. Besides, it's not like he can actually _do_ anything. Especially not with the baby on the way."

"That's totally true," Aedion said quickly. "Particularly now that I stop and think about it – Darrow wouldn't really have a leg to stand on if he tried anything."

"Would he even _attempt_ to do something, though?" Aelin said anxiously. "I can't continue to live like this, constantly looking over my shoulder. Always wondering if he's attempting to undermine me. I just can't."

"I know you can't," Aedion said quietly, as Rowan wrapped his arm even tighter around Aelin's waist. "I'd suggest you give Darrow a little more credit. Maybe if it seems as if you trust him, he'll start to trust you a little more as well."

Aelin nodded slowly. "But do I do about these threats. They're still out there, even if I don't want to think about it."

A beat of heavy silence drowned them out.

Then Rowan spoke, breaking the silence. "You know what I don't get? They've clearly been living in Rifthold for quite a while now. That's Dorian's capital. So why hasn't he done something about them yet? Doesn't his alliances mean anything to him anymore? Or what about the terms of the peace treaty? Clearly, it seems that Adarlan doesn't care about its honour – _at all_."

"I can send a message to King Dorian about this all," Aedion volunteered. "Find out what his stake in this is. See if he ever intended to squash this threat out before it becomes a threat at all."

"Yeah," Aelin nodded. "That might be a good idea. I mean, if they end up coming after us, they more than likely will go after him next."

"I'll send that message as soon as possible," Aedion resolved. He would do anything for his cousin and queen – especially if it brought her peace of mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**~8~**

Dorian Haviliard, King of Adarlan, paced his tower room angrily. The letter seemed to stare at him accusingly from his desk.

He was more than angry, he was furious, livid. How could they think so … so _little_ of him? How could they accuse him of not caring, of not paying attention to his post war alliances. Didn't the years of friendship mean anything to them?

How _dare_ they, he fumed. How could they blame him for not caring, for not paying attention to the world around him? Dorian glanced at the letter on his desk from the Terrasen royals again and scowled.

Yes, he had heard of the threats that were being made against Rowan and Aelin but he had assumed that it would have been taken care of by now. The people who served Aelin in her court were good at their jobs, after all. The spies employed by Aedion and Ren were rumoured to be the best on the continent. Dorian could only wish that the spies under his employ were half as good as their jobs.

At that moment, the door to Dorian's tower room screeched open and Dorian whirled around, reaching for the sword strapped at his waist. Upon seeing who was at the door, he relaxed, sighing. His bad day had just gotten a hell of a lot better.

He smiled brightly at Manon, but then scowled at his favoured spy, who had walked in with his fiancée.

"It appears, Athril, that you aren't doing your job as well as you should," Dorian grumbled at the man, his annoyance plain. "Why haven't you been keeping me informed of what's going on?"

"What are you talking about?" Athril replied tiredly. He'd had a long day so far and wasn't in the mood to be reprimanded for doing his job where the king wasn't.

"You know bloody well what I'm talking about!" Dorian hissed angrily. "And I wish to know why I wasn't kept informed!"

"I _don't_ know what you're talking about," Athril growled. "So either just tell me or shut up. I've had a long day and I can't deal with this now."

"Liar," Dorian hissed. "You lie. You know exactly what I'm talking about, so you had better hurry up and tell me."

Manon looked carefully back and forth between the two men. Truth be told, she thought she had a fairly good grasp of what was happening. Of why Dorian was in such a foul mood. Over the last several months she had paid much more attention to state affairs and alliances than Dorian had. Truth be told, she believed that laziness was the root of Dorian's practices – he'd rather have his nose in a book for an hour than pay attention to the politics of his kingdom for a single day. And Manon knew she wasn't the only one to have noticed it. She knew Athril and several other courtiers were aware of just how bad things were getting, for they had broached the subject with her. And now, it appeared, the other kingdoms on the continent were starting to notice.

And that was literally the worst thing that could happen at the moment. For there were far too many people spread across the various kingdoms who were still furious at the way their nations had been invaded by Adarlan. Too many rulers who were bitter about the way Adarlan had treated their people. Bitter at the way they had been forced to bow the knee to a man who was little more than a demonic tyrant. Bitter at the way their people had been sold into slavery and murdered – just for standing up for their rights.

Deep in her old, wicked bones, Manon knew that there were plenty of people out for revenge, who would just _love_ to give Adarlan and its people a taste of their own medicine. Who wanted Adarlan and its nobility to _know_ precisely what horrors that they had endured for the last decade. The terror and the despair. There many out there who wanted to carve up Adarlan's territory and divide it between the other kingdoms on the continent so thoroughly that Adarlan ceased to exist. And while Manon loved Adarlan's king, she found that she couldn't blame their enemies from being angry. That she understood them.

But Dorian… Dorian didn't realise, or understand, any of this. Because of his noncommittal, because of his lack of interest in his kingdom's politics, even know that he was king… Their allies had been slowly turning their backs on them, and Adarlan was now ripe for invasion. And all of this was due to Dorian's lack of interest in politics. All because he couldn't bring himself to care about what was happening outside of his castle.

"He's not lying, Dorian," Manon said quietly, ashamed of him. "So why don't you stop accusing everyone of lying to you, calm down and tell us what you're talking about, and then, after you tell us, shut up."

At that, Dorian ran over to his desk, grabbed up the letter he had just received, then ran over to Athril and shoved the letter in his face. "I'm talking about _this_."

Athril calmly took the letter and begun to read it with Manon leaning in over his shoulder to get a good look.

_Dorian_, the letter begun.

_I wish I was writing this letter under better circumstances, but I am not. I have recently come into possession of some rather disturbing news. It has come to my attention that you are not paying as much attention as you should to your post-war alliances._

_As I am sure you are aware, there have recently been some threats made against my Queen, and her consort. My spies have recently brought me the news that the people issuing these threats are in fact, residing in your city. Rifthold. My spies also informed me that is, in fact, quite common knowledge._

_So, I write to enquire why you have not had your people look into this. May I remind you that it is a condition of your post-war obligations to assist your fellow monarchs when necessary? In case you need reminding, there are many people from various kingdoms who still hate Adarlan, and see no difference between you and your father. Many people who still desire to see the horrors of the last decade wrecked upon your kingdom and your people._

_Right now I have to presume that you still care about your people, even if you no longer care about your friends and allies. And if you still care about your people, you will investigate this matter further, and if necessary, take the steps to eliminate the threat._

_For, if you do not, my royal family and I will not be answerable for the consequences._

_Aedion Ashryver_

Athril and Manon looked up at each other as they finished reading the letter. They had already suspected much of it, but to see it confirmed in writing was another thing altogether. But still, they had to wonder how Dorian was still so unaware, so ignorant of what was going on.

"What I don't understand," Athril said quietly, "is how you could possibly remain so ignorant, especially when both Manon and I told you what was going on."

"I think I would know if you told me about my friends being threatened," Dorian snapped. "I would really appreciate it if you started telling me the truth."

"For heaven's sake, Dorian!" Manon snapped, finally losing her temper. "We've already told you the truth! We first told you about these threats _months_ ago! You just never paid attention, the same way you never pay attention when politics is involved. You don't pay attention to world politics, you don't pay attention to the state of your kingdom. If I didn't know better, I would say that you just don't care about your kingdom or your people. At all."

For the first time Dorian looked wrong-footed. Athril quickly pressed the advantage.

"You clearly couldn't be bothered dealing with it when I first mentioned it, so Manon and I took our own initiative. We put our own plan into place. I've managed to have someone infiltrate the group successfully—"

"I suppose we'll just have to wait and see how that goes," Dorian said smugly. He couldn't believe his luck. After the months of not paying attention to state matters or world politics the chance to once again be a hero had just fallen into his lap.

"_You_ won't," Athril hissed, his temper at an all-time high. "You belittle and humiliate both your fiancée and I, accuse us of lying to you – accuse us of being liars to our faces in fact. And yet you expect to be able to just swoop in and claim our success for yourself? You must be fucking kidding me. You, good sir, are unbelievable."

"But, you don't understand, Athril," Dorian bleated pathetically. "I _have_ to be able to present your success and victory as my own. Just this once. For if I don't, it could mean the destruction of my kingdom."

"If you were truly worried about your kingdom, if you truly cared about your people," Athril snarled at him. "You would have started thinking about the welfare of Adarlan and its people as soon as the war waded. Before the war ended, even. You can't just jump in at the eleventh hour and claim any of our potential successes or failures as your own. That's not how it works."

And on that note, Athril turned on his heel and stormed out of the room angrily, as Dorian watched after him helplessly. Slowly, Dorian turned to Manon, his expression still helpless. "Manon, you have to understand— _Please_—"

"I understand," Manon said coldly. "I understand that you would let your kingdom fall apart due to your own inaction. I understand that you only pretend to care about your kingdom and your people. I understand that you let your friends think that you did not care about them. I also understand that in times such as these, we have to present a united front. But if things were different, I would end our engagement in no uncertain terms."

And on that note, Manon also stalked out the door, leaving Dorian standing there, looking confused and helpless. All he could think of in that moment was that he was stuffed. There was nothing he could do. His kingdom was sure to fall, due to his own ignorance and inaction.


	9. Chapter 9

**~9~**

The next several weeks were an absolute nightmare for everyone involved. Up north in Terrasen, for Aelin and Rowan, the waiting game was, as it always was, an agony of uncertainty. Neither of them would feel entirely at ease again until the threat was neutralised. But worst of all, it was starting to have an impact on their kingdom. It was becoming harder and harder to import Adarlanian goods into Terrasen. Which, in turn, made it harder to import goods from the more southern kingdoms on the continent, due to the increased aggression of Adarlan's navy.

The economy of the entire continent was starting to suffer, Adarlan's military was becoming increasing aggressive to match their suddenly hostile politics and it seemed as though war was imminent. A fact that was increasingly worrying Aelin and Rowan, as well as the monarchs of the southern kingdoms – particularly as the last war had ended less than a year ago.

It was disgusting, Aelin thought bitterly, as she stood at the window of her suite at the palace, watching the bustle of the city below. The very fact that they could be plunged back into war just months after the last one had ended, and both wars started by the same aggressor – Adarlan – just the thought of it was disgusting.

When Aelin had first learned of the threats being made against her and Rowan, she had thought that those responsible for the threats would have been caught and neutralised by now, but with each day that passed and that didn't happen, it became less and less probable. She had also never thought of it having such far reaching and long lasting consequences.

But the consequences of those threats was the potential outbreak of yet another war – less than a year after the last war had ended.

The outbreak of war was imminent, due to some death threats and due to Dorian's own inaction and dislike of politics.

Sometimes Aelin thought that it was the last fact that she understood the least. Dorian had been raised to be king, primed for it since birth. All his life his training had geared him toward being king. And yet, suddenly, he was neglecting both his kingdom and his allies in favour of his own hedonistic pleasure.

How much did Dorian understand, Aelin wondered. Did he understand how harmful his current lack of interest in politics was being? Did he realise just how far he had truly pushed things, how quickly things had unravelled, just because he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the big picture? Just because he was angry at the world?

The old Dorian had never been so petty and judgemental. Let alone so bone idle and lazy. The old Dorian would never have let things get so bad. The old Dorian would have been a lot more stand up and take charge, he would have led Adarlan down a better path than this. Aelin grieved for the old Dorian – she felt as though her old friend were long gone and never coming back. She missed him.

If she had been able, she would have long since ridden straight down to Rifthold to shout and scream at Dorian about everything for hours on end without pause. She wanted to berate him for his ignorance and negligence. He more than deserved it.

After everything that had happened in the last few months, Dorian deserved more than just a tongue-lashing, she thought. Aelin desperately wanted to beat him up – and not just with her fists, but with her magic was well.

But, because of her pregnancy, Aelin couldn't do that. Not until her baby was born, at least. But Aelin was worried that the constant strain she was under would negatively affect her baby. The longer they went without neutralising the threat, the more worried she was about not just her safety and Rowan's, but the safety of her unborn child.

And as long as the people threatening her family were still out there, and unchallenged, the more and more scared she was for the future of her family.

If any harm came to herself or her family, Aelin knew that she would not be able to forgive Dorian for just sitting back and doing nothing while she spent months in an agony of wondering. She was not going to forgive him for doing nothing while she spent months spent wondering if she was going to survive the day, the week, the month ahead. She was not going to forgive Dorian for sitting back and doing nothing while she spent months suffering.

Aelin knew that she was never going to be able to forgive Dorian for sitting back and doing nothing while her life was threatened. As far as she was concerned, their friendship was over.

Meanwhile down south in Adarlan's capital of Rifthold, Dorian was scowling as he stormed through his castle. Dorian had been in an uncharacteristically bad mood ever since he had found out the truth about the threats being made Aelin and Rowan.

But, most unexpectedly, Dorian wasn't angry for the reasons you might think. He wasn't worried at all about his friend. He wasn't worried at all about the safety of his friend's kingdom, nor the safety of his friend's family. He didn't care about the safety of his friend or her unborn child.

Instead, what Dorian was worried about was the security of his own capital, the security of his own kingdom. Dorian was more concerned about upholding his own reputation, than he was about upholding his post-war alliances.

What Dorian didn't understand, however, was that his reputation was already in tatters. The rest of the world had been aware of the threats being made against Aelin and Rowan long before he had been. Hell, they'd even known that those issuing the threats were residing in Rifthold.

It wasn't as though Lyria was even attempting to hide her presence, or her intention. In fact she didn't care who knew. In Lyria's mind, the more who knew who she was, and what she wanted, the better. As far as she was concerned, the more people who knew, the more people who could help her take her revenge.

But the very fact that Dorian hadn't made a move on Lyria or Sam yet, even after finding out the truth about their threats, spoke volumes.

It told people that he just didn't care. As long as he didn't appear to be involved, he didn't care what the people in his capital did. And in the eyes of many of his citizens, that made him a traitor. Many of his people were long since aware of his long-standing friendship with Terrasen's royal family, and in their eyes, his inability to uphold and defend that relationship, both friendship and alliance, was an unforgiveable betrayal of them.

As far as the people of Adarlan were concerned, their king's inability to uphold his alliances to defend and protect the other royal families of the continent, boded ill for them as well. For if their king was unable to defend his allies, how could he be expected to defend his own people from threats against them?

Just because Dorian had been consistently unaware of the grumblings of discontent issuing from the other kingdoms, it didn't mean his people were. They knew, even if their king did not, that Adarlan's military had slowly and discreetly stopped taking their orders from King Dorian, and started taking them from Lyria. And now, because of it, the continent was once again on the brink of war.

But still, Dorian remained unaware of this larger picture. All he could think of that day was how on earth he was possibly going to salvage the scraps of his reputation. And he didn't have a clue how to do it. Not by himself at any rate.

And as far as Dorian was concerned, there was only one person he knew of who could help him. His most trusted advisor and oldest friend, Chaol Westfall. Chaol would know how to help him, Dorian thought with a sudden surge of savage pleasure. Chaol would _want_ to help him with this, unlike Athril and Manon, who only wanted to see his reputation come crashing down around him.

But Dorian's hope in Chaol had been misplaced. For when he arrived in Chaol's palace suite, his old friend was busy directing the servants in their packing while his wife, Yrene, held their newborn child in her arms.

"Chaol, what are you doing?" Dorian asked, dumbfounded.

"In case you had forgotten, Dorian, a few weeks ago I asked permission for us to go home to Anielle for a while," Chaol replied simply. "As you never deigned to give me an answer, I decided that we would go anyway. Even if it's just to give my mother and brother a chance to meet the baby for the first time."

"But the baby was born months ago!" Dorian exclaimed, shocked. Surely, Chaol and Yrene had already taken the baby back to Anielle so Chaol's family could meet it? Surely, they must have done that several months ago, back when the baby had actually been born.

"Exactly," Chaol responded. "You have kept us here in Rifthold ever since the war ended, with no home leave. It's nothing against you personally, Dorian, but Yrene and I would like to go home for a couple of weeks."

"Very well," Dorian said, seething with silent anger and rage. "But make sure you come back quickly. I need you. Now more than ever before."

"We will," Chaol said, not quite meeting Dorian's eye. "We'll make sure to come back soon. And then you can tell me about whatever it is that is going on. I would like to hear your side of the story."

But that was a lie. Chaol and Yrene Westfall had no intention whatsoever of going to Anielle, or of returning to Rifthold. Once he had received word that the mountain passes into Terrasen had started to clear a few days ago, Chaol had sent messages north, to Aelin and Rowan. The contents of these messages? That Dorian was likely going to bring ruin upon them all, and upon Adarlan through his inaction, and requesting safe haven for himself and his family in Terrasen.

To Chaol's utmost surprise, the response had come back in the affirmative, provided that he shared with them whatever he knew regarding Dorian's current policies and politics. Chaol didn't even hesitate to agree. After everything that had happened in the last few months, Chaol didn't want anything more to do with Dorian, and he didn't feel guilty about it at all.

It was time for him to start a new life for himself with his wife and child. Chaol found that he was quite looking forward to it.

Athril knew that waiting so long to make another appearance at the supposedly abandoned Assassin's Guild was a mistake. It was a mistake because he knew that Sam and Lyria were still residing there, unharmed, and he was worried about Lyria might have done to Sam by now. Especially after the way Lyria had been treating Sam the last time he had been there, back when he had informed them that Aelin and Rowan were expecting their first child together.

But he had been both busy and easily befuddled these last few weeks. It had been an absolute nightmare trying to clean up Dorian's messes at the palace, as the young king was no longer making a pretence at caring. The meetings alone, that the king had stopped attending alone were fraught with difficulty, as his negligence had resulted in a sudden increase of influence from the Adarlanian noblemen who had supported Dorian's father. A fact that desperately worried him.

But Athril had also been distracted by his personal life. The precious few who knew of his continued existence had always thought Athril still mourned the love he had once thought he had had with Maeve, but Athril had moved on from her decades ago. In fact, he had a new woman in his life. And it was because of that he had neglected his duties and responsibilities.

A part of Athril stiffened and shrank as he approached the doorstep of the Assassin's Guild. All appeared calm on the outside, although unusually silent. The last report that Athril had read, had suggested that the neighbours believed that a resident of the abandoned Guild building was a victim of domestic violence, which made the silence all the more unnerving.

Steeling his nerve, Athril reached out and opened the front door. It was empty. All of that worry, the concern about what was currently going on in this house, and for all intents and purposes, it was empty.

Or at least the ground floor was, at least. With shaking hands and a thudding heart, Athril climbed the stairs, almost dreading what he would find.

But, as Athril began searching the top floor for signs of life, he not only found that both Lyria and Sam were still in residence, he also found out that Lyria had moved on from physical violence against Sam.

For Lyria was now abusing him sexually as well.

As Athril pushed the door to the master bedroom open, he found Lyria strutting around the room in her undergarments, while Sam cowered in the corner. As he watched, Lyria started hissing furiously at Sam.

"You know why I still need you Sam," Lyria crooned seductively at him. "You know that if I want to win my Rowan back, I need him to make him think that I'm having his baby. I might have miscarried Rowan's child two centuries ago, but he needs to think that I'm still pregnant – that I'm still carrying his child. And for me to fall pregnant, I need you to help me Sam."

And at that moment, something in Athril broke, and before he knew it, he was moving across the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**~10~**

Athril didn't know what he was thinking as he charged across the room. All he knew was that he didn't know how long Lyria had been forcing herself on Sam for – since his last visit, perhaps? And he knew deep down, just _knew_, that he could not let Lyria continue to do that to Sam. Not any longer. The time of Lyria's rule of fear was over.

It wasn't that he particularly liked Sam. He didn't. Athril may very well have been alive for the last thousand years, but in all that time, he had never seen humans as people worth taking note of. For the most part, he found that they were just the same – stupid, selfish, ignorantly hateful, prone to terrible laziness, undeserving of the little magic they possessed, and not to mention quite often power hungry. Case in point, look at King Dorian Haviliard and his father.

Athril often thought that the Galathynius line – the royal family of Terrasen – was the exception to the rule. It may have just been a personal bias though, Athril often thought. He still felt great affection for his late friend Brannon, and had watched over his line from afar ever since his death centuries ago. Athril had been devastated when the last members of the Galathynius family had been murdered during Adarlan's invasion and suitably delighted when Aelin's survival and return had stunned the world ten years later.

And that was why he could not allow Lyria to continue to destroy his oldest friend's legacy. And he could not allow her to become a monster that all that knew of them feared, the way Maeve and the last King of Adarlan had become.

Too late, Lyria became aware of the danger. She looked over at Athril just as he lunged for her and wrapped his hands around her throat.

"Wh-whaat… are… y-you… do…ing?" Lyria barely managed choke out, already struggling to breathe.

"Something I should have done a very long time ago," Athril snarled, tightening his grip. "Do you not remember me telling you to leave this boy alone? That if you so much as laid a hand on him or touched a man without his consent I would kill you for it? _DO YOU REMEMBER NOW?!_"

Suddenly disgusted, Athril stopped throttling the Fae woman and threw her body across the room with such force that the entire room shuddered.

"I should have realised that you wouldn't obey my orders," Athril ranted and raved. He had never been so enraged before in his entire life. This woman's mere existence made him _furious_. She should have been killed centuries ago. "I should have known that a worm like you had no taste for honour, or respect for your elders. I should have known that you would work around what I said. I merely said you weren't allowed to lay a hand on the boy, or abuse him physically, so you just decide to circumnavigate that by abusing him sexually? By _raping_ him? What on earth did you hope to achieve by that?"

Athril shook his head bitterly. Instead of calming down, he was simply getting more and more worked up and agitated about it. One thing was for sure and that was that Athril was never going to forgive himself for this. If he had only returned to this house earlier, he might have been able to save the boy from this fate.

"It's not considered rape if it's for a good reason," Lyria giggled flirtatiously, apparently recovered from the near strangulation.

"So what's your 'good reason' for sexually assaulting a child?" Athril snapped back at her. "You'd better have a damn good one considering the state that he's in."

Lyria glanced over at Sam who was huddled up in a ball in the corner of the room, sobbing. She smirked flirtatiously at him before turning back to Athril.

"Because if I ever stand a chance of winning back my Rowan and permanently getting rid of that bitch queen of his I need a child," Lyria said, trying her best to make herself look as pathetic as possible. "Especially as I was pregnant at the time of my abandonment."

Athril just looked mystified. "If you _were_ pregnant, then why don't you use that child? Rowan has grieved that child for two centuries. If he only knew that he no longer had to grieve…"

"Because I miscarried that child when my beloved mate abandoned me!" Lyria bleated pathetically.

"So you think that if you fall pregnant with a stranger's child, it means that Rowan will automatically come running back to you?" Athril asked cynically. "You think falling pregnant with a stranger's child will mean that he will automatically start loving you again?"

"Finally!" Lyria squealed excitedly. "Finally you get it! You finally understand what I've been trying to do all this time!"

"You're barking mad," Athril scowled at her. "First of all, how do you expect Rowan to find out about your pregnancy, if by some chance you _do_ fall pregnant?"

"I assume that my Rowan has heard about my return by now," Lyria shrugged casually. "I'm sure that he would hear about our child the same way."

"That would be extremely dishonest and not to mention immorally wrong," Athril snarled, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "How would you possibly explain to him that you were still pregnant after two hundred years? Besides, it would not be fair to Rowan; especially as he's now quite happily married to a woman he loves dearly with a child that's undeniably his on the way."

"But Rowan _can't_ love that bitch woman who calls herself a queen," Lyria snapped angrily. "Because Rowan is my mate and he belongs to _me_. Rowan is my mate and therefore he belongs with me and no one else. I can tell you with absolute certainty that Rowan does not belong with that fire breathing bitch queen up north in that frozen hellhole of a kingdom."

Athril looked at the woman before him with a mixture of pity and despair. He had no wish to pity Lyria, but looking at her now she seemed so stuck in the past and so unable to see the truth that was right in front of her. If Athril didn't know any better he would have said that Lyria was as insane as Maeve had been while she was still alive. And that was saying something, especially considering what Maeve had turned out to be.

A Valg queen – not a Fae queen. Athril shuddered at the mere thought.

How could he have ever thought that Maeve was the one for him? Luckily he had come to his senses almost a thousand years before.

But Athril was also despairing in that moment. For Lyria's refusal to see past anything other than her own desires would make his job that much harder.

The more Lyria truly believed in what she was doing, the harder it would be for him to help bring her down.

How on earth had this suddenly become entirely his problem? Someone had to deal with the threat that Lyria posed, but how had it suddenly fallen to him? Dorian, Athril knew, wouldn't deal with any threat – as long as it didn't affect him personally, Dorian wouldn't care. But for Aelin and Rowan, for their security and that of their unborn child, for their peace of mind, he had to deal with it, somehow.

If only he knew how. But he didn't. But in that moment, Athril knew one thing and one thing only. He was not going to leave Sam Cortland behind this time. He was not give Lyria another chance to abuse him. He would not allow it.

He should not have given Lyria the chance to abuse him the first. He should not have left Sam Cortland behind the last time he was there. He should have taken Sam with him and put him in a secure place.

Athril felt that he had already failed him once, and he was most certainly not going to fail him a second time.

"Sam!" Athril called, loudly but gently. "Sam, can you come over here for a moment? I'd like to talk to you about something in private."

For the first time Sam looked up from his corner. His expression looked hopeful, almost optimistic. Almost as though he expected something good to happen for the first time in a long while. Lyria, on the other hand, looked absolutely livid. She could _not_ believe what was happening here. How on earth was she mean to cope without anyone to manipulate and control. Why was Athril doing this to her?

"What on earth do you think you are doing, Athril?" Lyria hissed viciously at him as Sam hurriedly scurried over to Athril's side.

"I'm doing what I should have done the last time I was here," Athril replied calmly. For the first time since this whole debacle started he felt as though he were doing the right thing. "I'm taking the boy away from here. Saving him from a fate of sexual slavery and abuse. I'm saving the boy to a place where he'll be safe from _you_."

"But you can't do that!" Lyria exclaimed loudly. "I _need_ that boy! _I need him!_ He's my slave! You have no idea how much I need him! He's the key to my revenge plans! I won't be able to win my precious Rowan back without him! You have to let him stay here with me!"

"If you really thought about it Lyria," Athril sad coldly, "you would realise that you _do not_ actually need Sam Cortland. I'm sure that you can bring yourself down by yourself. Plus, if you knew anything at all about this continent, and the kingdoms on it, you would know that slavery is illegal here. It has been since the end of the war."

And on that note Athril turned on his heel and stalked out of the abandoned building, taking Sam with him. Despite his misgivings, he would make sure that he would remain safe.

Within the hour Athril had managed to get Sam out of the city, to a small encampment of women by the river bank. Sam stared at the iron teeth and nails of the thirteen women around him in bewilderment and mystification as Athril spoke quickly and quietly to a woman with gold eyes and long white hair who was wearing a bright red cloak.

"Are you sure having him here is a good idea?" The white haired, red-cloaked woman was asking Athril.

"I don't know," Athril responded honestly. "But I couldn't leave him there with that psychopath any longer and I couldn't think where else he could be safe."

"I know."

There were a few minutes of peaceable silence as Sam stared at Athril and the woman. Although he had never met the woman before, he could tell that she was important to Athril. From the look on Athril's face as he looked at her, Sam rather thought that he were in love with her.

"Are you sure that this camp is safe, though?" Athril asked suddenly, anxious. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, Manon."

"I'm sure, Athril," the woman – Manon, apparently, said. "We still need to be fairly close to the city, remember. We all still have our roles to play. The threat that Lyria poses to the world is still out there. And until it has been dealt with and the world is once again safe, we all still have our parts to play."

"I know," Athril groaned, frustrated. "But that definitely does not mean that I actually have to like it."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Manon said cheerfully before kissing Athril passionately on the mouth. "Don't worry about me, Athril; I know how to look after myself. And don't worry about the boy, we'll look after him."

Athril smiled contentedly before kissing Manon one last time and striding off back towards the city.


	11. Chapter 11

**~11~**

Dorian scowled to himself as he strode through the streets of Rifthold. At that moment, he wondered how things had gotten so bad. He wondered how the world had gotten so bad, so soon after the war. He had been meant to rise Adarlan up above his father's crimes – to make it great again.

But Dorian no longer knew what to do. His control over his kingdom had slipped through his fingers over the last few months, and he had no idea how it had happened. His people were no longer willing to swear allegiance to him, anger and outrage in the other kingdoms was growing. And if the other kingdoms began to move on him, on Aelin's behalf, which was almost inevitable, he would hardly be able to defend his kingdom, what with the dissent that was brewing in the military.

In fact, each day Dorian had the growing sensation that the military was leaning toward taking orders from someone else.

In a way that was why Dorian was currently prowling the streets of Rifthold. As he could presently trace all of his current misfortune back to a single person, that also meant that the same single person also had the power to restore to him his previous blessed luck.

But the problem was that Dorian didn't know where he was meant to be going. In all the time he had known Aelin, she had never once told him the exact location of the Assassin's Guild. He didn't know whether it was due to shame of her past or due to something far darker. For all he knew she'd probably decided that it wasn't knowledge that the Crown Prince of Adarlan should have in his arsenal. Quite ironic really, considering who Aelin had turned out to be.

But what killed him was the fact that he had never bothered to ask her. Despite having a major crush on Aelin during that ridiculous competition, he had never bothered to learn much about her. He just hadn't wanted to know.

Dorian had always believed Aelin when she said that the past didn't matter. That it was what you did in present – in the future – that mattered. In the end it was what you did to atone for the sins of your past that mattered.

Yes, Aelin had a shady past, but in the end, what she would be forever remembered for was unifying the world in the pursuit of defeating evil. But what would he, Dorian, be remembered for? What was to be his legacy? Was Dorian only destined to be the idiotic king who continued his father's evilly demonic work and let his kingdom fall to a foreign woman with a vengeance?

And if that was the case, what the hell was he doing, searching out the streets of his city for said foreign, vengeful woman? Did he honestly have a death wish? If Dorian had any sense left, he would have been able to see that what he was doing was beyond reason. If only Dorian would listen to sense, he would have realised that what he was doing now was sure-fire way to bring his kingdom to its knees. A sure-fire way to bring about the destruction of his kingdom.

But Dorian was unable to see it that way. At the moment he only saw Lyria as the woman who could help him secure his position on the throne. He had once thought that Aelin would be the one to support his claim to the Adarlanian throne, but Aelin had grown distant and uncommunicative over the last several months. At some level, Dorian knew that Aelin had her own kingdom to govern, and her own life, but the cold silence hurt more than he had expected it would. He missed the warm friendship he had once shared with Aelin more than he could possibly say.

Dorian scowled once more at the thought of the Queen of Terrasen. If she had only done more to dispel and control the threats being made against her and her husband, then he, Dorian, would not be in this situation, wandering lost through the streets of his own damn city. If only she had taken control of the situation – of the threats being made against her and her family – than his kingdom, Adarlan, would not be currently facing wreck ruin. Utter destruction and utter annihilation.

And Dorian hated Aelin for it. He hated her for letting this happen to his kingdom. He hated her for not showing him the support that he'd needed in the months immediately preceding the war. If only Aelin had been a better friend, a better ally, then this all could have been avoided.

As Dorian reached an intersection, he was too lost in thought to notice that he was being followed. One of the people following him was Athril, who had noticed that Dorian was unusually headed for the city, instead of his usual haunts.

Athril had been worried, knowing that Dorian's current frame of mind made him particularly vulnerable to Lyria's dastardly machinations. And as he'd just freed Sam from Lyria's clutches, she would be looking for a new ally. And he knew, just _knew_, that Lyria would just _love_ to have someone as high profile as Dorian on her side, believing it would make her vengeful quest that much easier.

On the other hand, the others who were following Dorian were a couple of Lyria's ever watchful spies.

Lyria's spies were the reason why Athril had gotten Sam Cortland out of the city once he'd freed him from the evil bitch's clutches. The spies that Lyria had collected over the few months that she had been in Adarlan only ever patrolled Rifthold itself, not the countryside surrounding it.

And as such, he'd known that Sam would be safe with Manon Blackbeak and her Thirteen, as their camp currently lay at least a mile outside of the city walls. Because, as long as he was outside of the city, he would be safe. No one within the city was safe at all.

In a way, that was why he was so worried about Dorian right now. It wasn't safe for him to be wandering the streets of Rifthold, especially not with him being who he was. But Dorian had, and now, like a dickhead, had gotten supremely lost. It was enough to make Athril wonder just how well Dorian actually knew his kingdom, his people. Deep down, Athril thought that it didn't bode well for Adarlan if Dorian was able to get lost so easily in the streets of his own capital.

Athril had already been tracking Dorian for nearly an hour already, and missing Manon, was wondering if he should just turn around and head home when he realised something.

Dorian wasn't _just_ lost, and Lyria's spies weren't _just_ tracking him. He, Athril, was the only one doing the tracking at the moment.

Lyria's spies weren't simply tracking Dorian, he realised with a burst of fear. They were herding him somewhere. Lyria must have been spying on Dorian for quite some time by now, and when he had ventured out into the city, she would have realised that it would be a perfect opportunity to have him snatched off of the streets. Especially if she could make it seem like Dorian was only lost. And, truth be told, it would have been pretty damn easy to get Dorian all lost and confused.

Especially as Dorian barely knew the city at all.

Athril was both horrified and afraid at the thought of Lyria getting her hands on Dorian. Horrified at the thought of what the two of them might do together. Horrified at the thought of what they might be able to accomplish together. Yet, at the same time afraid, afraid for Dorian. Afraid of what Lyria might do to him. Afraid that Lyria would use Dorian as a mere figurehead in order to destroy the world.

But what scared Athril the most, was that once Lyria got her hands on Dorian, she would be able to compel him to do whatever she wanted. He'd kill his best friend if she told him to.

Despite being completely exhausted and wanting to go back home, Athril now realised that he had to stick it out for a while yet. He had to collect all the information he possibly could – he had to find out where Lyria's spies were herding Dorian to. And find out what she could possibly want with him.

Manon had said that they all still had their parts to play, in order to ensure that Lyria's plans never came to fruition. To ensure that the world they built in the aftermath of the war was a better world than they had been born in.

This was his role to play. The role of playing spy, a role that he often thought was a burden, was the role that he had to play going forward. He had to keep collecting as much information as he could in order to ensure that Aelin and her family were safe.

As more of Lyria's spies began to flood the street, and discreetly herded Dorian off into an abandoned building off on a small side street, all he could think was that he needed to find some way to get a better idea of what was happening – especially in order to keep his lover, and his best friend's last living descendant safe.

For Manon and Aelin, he had to find out what was happening.

Noticing the building that Dorian had been driven into, Athril quickly scaled a nearby building in an attempt to see what was happening inside. And what he saw made his heart stop dead in his chest.

How could he have not noticed that the small, crumbling building that Dorian had been shepherded into was a semi-abandoned temple? The temple of Lumas, God of Love. And inside that small, crumbling temple was… Was…

Athril blinked, looked away, and then looked again. He couldn't believe his eyes. From what little he could see of the inner temple through the window, it looked as though it had been set up for an imminent wedding ceremony. And through the tiny window, he could clearly dressed up in an extremely fancy wedding dress.

And those spies were obviously attempting to haul a struggling Dorian to the altar…

Was Lyria crazy? Had she lost her mind? Had she really had her spies kidnap Dorian in order to force him to marry her? What on earth did she hope to achieve by that? Did she think that by forcing Dorian to marry her, that she'd then be able to force him to agree to her plans for vengeance on Aelin and Rowan?

Suddenly, it all clicked in Athril's brain. If Lyria used her compellability magic on Dorian Haviliard, and then forced him to marry her while he was under the influence, than she would practically be the de facto ruler of Adarlan.

Making it that much easier to get the revenge she wanted on Rowan for moving on with his life with Aelin and starting a family with her.

He, Athril, may have won the last round of the game by wresting Sam from her control and stealing him out of the city, but Lyria had won this round of the game. And she had won herself the bigger hand. What a clever little bitch that woman was.

Athril scrambled down from his perch and toward the city gates as fast as he could. He had to get a warning about this out as soon as he could.

As Athril ran out of the city as fast as he could, all he could think of was that he had to get this information to Manon and to Aelin as fast as he could. And in order to do that, he had to run as fast as he could.

And keep running.

Dorian may have thought that he was heading into the city for one thing – anger at the situation he was in, anger at Aelin for, as he saw it, not doing enough for him – but Lyria had known, the way she had always known, what was going on, and manipulated the situation for her own ends.

There was now no time to waste.

The fate world was now in very extreme danger. Aelin and Manon were in more danger than ever. The only people that Athril cared about in this world were in severe danger.

And all he could do now was run. He had to hope that Manon and her Thirteen were still camping in the same place as they were the other day. He had to warn them. And then they had to get a warning to Aelin and Rowan in Terrasen somehow.


	12. Chapter 12

**~12~**

It had started out like a pretty normal day – or as normal a day as was possible these days. However, as the day progressed, Manon had the growing sense of something almost evil happening, a wicked, malevolent sense. Something that would adversely affect the fate of the world. She knew it in her wicked old bones. And deep down, Manon knew that Lyria was at the centre of what was happening in Rifthold at the moment, and that either Dorian or Athril were involved somehow.

Manon didn't know how she knew, but deep in her gut, she knew – just _knew_ – that they were involved. That they were at the centre of it at all and Lyria was the root. And if she was right and Lyria was in the middle of it all, then they were in very great danger.

As the hours passed, and the sense of evil she felt emanating from the city increased, Manon began to wonder if she and her fellow witches should move the camp further away from Rifthold. She didn't want to be so close to the city, not when someone was conducting rites with a nefarious intent. Yet, at the same time, Manon was almost afraid to move the camp any further from the city, in case Athril was unable to find them again.

Yet as the day passed, the rest of her Thirteen grew increasingly aware of her restlessness and of the evil menace that was slinking through the city. For as much as they attempted to keep their worry and concern to themselves, she still heard the whispers. The gossip about what could possibly be the source of the dark magic they sensed coming from Rifthold, as if they couldn't already guess at it. As if they didn't already know that Lyria was behind it.

And yet, they still continued to wonder, and to whisper.

"What do you think could be happening?" Thea murmured to her lover Kaya over lunch.

"Why on earth are you asking me for?" Kaya grumbled in return. "I know just as little as you. I guess I finally know why I've always hated this damn city though."

"If the pair of you don't know what's going on in that city right now, then you're even more stupid than I thought," Ghislaine said snappishly, looking up from her meal, her dark skin unusually pale.

"So go on then," Asterin murmured to Ghislaine. "What are we being so stupid about?"

"What's going on in Rifthold at the moment," Ghislaine said simply. "It's dark magic. Dark _Fae_ magic. My best guess is that Lyria person is behind it."

"And how do you know all of this, Ghislaine?" Imogen muttered, listening in.

"The same reason the rest of you don't," Ghislaine retorted sharply, stroking the cover of the old book lying beside her lovingly.

Thea, Kaya, Imogen and Asterin scowled at that. They hated the way had always Ghislaine vaunted her knowledge and intelligence over the rest of the Thirteen, hated the way she acted as though her learning made her more important than the rest of them were put together.

"So what are we doing about this?" Asterin asked, attempting to hide her scowl.

"We watch," Ghislaine said simply. "We wait for Athril to contact us with news. Hopefully when Athril arrives, he'll know more about it than we currently do."

"I just hope that Athril comes soon," Thea muttered, glancing sideways over at Manon. "Manon's getting antsy, and he's the only one who can calm her down when she's like this."

"Well, I'm just glad that the little boy over there hasn't noticed anything wrong," Imogen said, jerking her thumb in Sam's direction.

At that all five of them looked over at Sam in disdain. It was pointedly obvious at a glance that he couldn't perceive or infer anything different anything wrong with the city a couple of miles away. Sitting on the other side of their small camp, Sam was happily slurping his stew without a care in the world. Over the last few days since his rescue, Sam had told several of them that he didn't care what happened to him from now on, as long as he never had to see or hear from Lyria again.

"Of course he hasn't noticed anything wrong," Ghislaine snapped at them. "What do you expect? He's only human, after all. His senses aren't as sharp as ours."

"Be quiet for once in your life, Ghislaine," Asterin retorted angrily. "Go back to your books and leave the rest of us alone.

Ghislaine blushed and grabbed her book before stalking off in a huff.

"So, now what do we do now?" Kaya asked Asterin quietly. "Because I really don't feel comfortable with the idea of being so close to the city at the moment."

"We wait until nightfall," Asterin said after a brief pause. "If Athril hasn't brought news by then, I'll convince Manon to move camp closer to the Terrasen border. It'll likely be safer there. Not to mention easier for us to run messages to Orynth."

At that Thea, Kaya and Imogen all looked relieved, and Asterin had to wonder just how scared the three of them really were. Just how many members of the Thirteen were frightened by what they sensed coming from the city today? Just how many of them were frightened by Lyria and the threat she posed? And just how was she going to keep that fear in check?

A frightened coven was a weak and useless coven. And the Thirteen were far from weak. Far from useless. They were the strongest known coven in the Blackbeak Clan.

They did not have a reputation for mercy, or for running away in fear. Their strength came from their unity and if their fear of Lyria was too strong, Asterin didn't know how she, Sorrel and Manon were going to hold them together.

And that scared Asterin. Badly.

Over the next couple of hours Asterin debated persuading Manon to move their camp north. The evil vibes coming off the city, and the tension among the Thirteen continued to grow – enough so that even Sam started to pick up on it.

When Asterin finally worked up the courage to confront Manon about why she hadn't given the order to move the camp north yet, Manon merely said,

"Soon, Asterin. Not yet, but soon. Just another hour or two. Please."

At that, Asterin had to turn away so that Manon couldn't see her expression. For she was truly starting to believe that Athril wasn't going to come back to her today. For if Athril hadn't been able to come to Manon yet, then Asterin believed that he somehow wasn't able to. That he had somehow been caught or incapacitated. And if that was the case, then it was far too dangerous for them to remain so close to Rifthold.

And there was the boy, Sam Cortland, to think off as well. They had promised Athril that they would keep him safe. Asterin herself intended to keep that promise. After everything the boy had been through these past few years, he deserved some peace and safety in his life. Quite frankly, they all did.

It was yet another two and a half hours before Athril arrived, completely and utterly terrified, when they were – _finally_ – in the middle of packing up camp.

"What the hell are you all still doing here?" Athril screeched. "Run, run, run as fast as you can!"

"What happened? What did you see?" Vesta asked, the redhead's face pale and tight with worry. "Calm down. Breathe. Tell us what happened."

Slowly taking a deep breath, Athril told them what he'd seen in Rifthold that day, tracking Dorian out of concern of his safety, especially with Lyria still in Rifthold… Following him to that temple… Lyria in the wedding dress… And his assumptions about what that meant.

"This is bad," Ghislaine said, paler than ever before. "With Lyria ruling Adarlan through Dorian as her puppet, practically her slave, she'll be able to do untold damage to the world."

"Tell me something I don't know," Athril snapped angrily, glaring furiously at Ghislaine who then looked down in mortification.

"I _told_ you that staying here so long was a bad idea! _I told you!_" Asterin shouted at Manon, losing her temper. "I told you that we should have left while we still could! And now, because of your inaction, you have put _all_ of our lives in danger!"

Manon said nothing as Asterin continued to rant at her. She knew, deep down, that Asterin was right. She had been selfish, so stupidly selfish, in waiting so long to give the order to pack and move the camp. She had risked _all_ of their lives, and for what? Just because she'd wanted to ensure the safety of her lover? Just because she'd wanted to stay back in order to know what had happened to him? Just because she'd wanted to know if he made it out safe and sound. Manon couldn't believe that she'd been so stupidly selfish.

Manon knew that she'd done wrong. She had put the safety of her lover – the safety of Athril – ahead of the safety and well-being of her coven. And now they all might suffer because of it.

And Manon hated herself for it.

"Enough talking. Enough arguing," Athril barked out, interrupting Asterin's tirade sharply. "We don't have the time to spare. We all have to get out of here, _now_. I honestly didn't expect to find you all still here. I thought you all would have had enough sense to move the camp northward. I thought you would all have enough sense to get away from Rifthold."

Manon blushed, ashamed and mortified. She knew she had been the only delay here. And she hated herself for putting them all in danger. She hated herself. Manon knew even then that she was never going to be able to forgive herself for it. never going to be able to forgive herself for risking her coven.

Athril's arrival had almost a motivational effect on the coven. The announcement of the news he'd brought sped up the last of their packing, and they were in the skies flying northward within an hour.

They all knew that the trek northward would be harder than any flight they'd had before. Time was of the essence right now. Getting as far away from Rifthold as possible was important. But at the same time there were still some important questions that needed to be answered.

What was Lyria planning? What were her next steps going to be? How would Sam react to seeing Aelin again after so long? How would he react to seeing her again, for the first time since finding out the truth about her identity? How would he react? How would Aelin react to them bringing him with them?

There were a lot of questions to be answered, and unfortunately for them, there just weren't any good answers. Only time would answer them.

But on the other hand, there wasn't much time left. Only the time it took them to reach Terrasen – to reach Orynth. And they got closer with each passing wing beat of the wyverns.

They were running out of time. And not just running out of time to prepare themselves for something they weren't looking forward to. They were running out of time to stop Lyria in her tracks. They were running out of time to save the world.

They were running out of time full stop. They didn't have the time they needed. And that seriously scared them all. For if they weren't able to save the world, then what was out there for them? If they weren't able to save the world, what was going to happen? Even their worst, most violent imaginations weren't evil or nasty enough to imagine it.

They had to do everything in their power to prevent that future from happening. And they needed more time.


	13. Chapter 13

**~13~**

As the Thirteen continued their northward flight, it seemed as though the world was crashing down around the heads of their friends and allies.

But Athril wasn't just worried about what was happening with Dorian in Lyria's hands. He was also worried about what could happen when they reached Orynth. He was worried about how Sam and Aelin would react to seeing each other again after the last four years.

It wasn't that Athril was worried that Aelin would leave Rowan for Sam. No, he knew very well just how very happy she was with Rowan. But he was worried about how she would react to facing Sam again – especially with everything that had happened in the last few months. He knew that Aelin had heard the rumours that Sam was still alive, but there was a difference between _hearing_ something, and _seeing_ it for yourself. Having experienced Aelin's famous temper for himself, Athril had no choice but to assume that it wold not end well.

But he was also worried about how Sam would react to seeing Aelin after everything he'd been through in the last few years. He'd believed that she'd abandoned him, that she'd just used him and abandoned him to Arobynn Hamel's cruel and sadistic whims. Even though Sam said that he realised how and why Aelin had moved on with her life, Athril had to wonder whether Sam was really as accepting as he said he was. He wondered how well Sam would react when he saw how happy Aelin was with Rowan, saw how far her pregnancy had progressed.

Athril was also worried about his Manon. He knew she blamed herself for delaying so long the order to pack the encampment and move north. Yes, he'd been furious about it first. She had deliberately put the lives of her coven members – and inadvertently, Sam's life – in danger, just so that she could ensure that she knew that he was safe.

But at the same time, Athril knew that he couldn't blame Manon for that. Not really. That day she had been worried about him to the extent that she hadn't been thinking of anything else. Athril _was_ also slightly flattered at the same time. The fact that she would put everything and everyone she cared about to the side in order to make sure she knew, one way or another, what had happened to him was touching. Heartbreaking, but touching. Athril loved Manon all the more for it.

Athril knew, in that moment, that Manon was the only woman for him. He loved her with all his heart and soul, and could only pray that she loved him back. However, Athril knew that he would not – could not – risk mentioning his true feelings for Manon yet. He could not risk alienating her when there was so much at stake.

Deep down, Dorian knew that something was wrong with him. Ever since that day when he'd stormed through the streets of his city, fuming at the world, nothing had been right. It was as though someone else had been controlling his body, his thoughts.

Yes, it was true that he'd already been thinking much of the same thoughts for some time now, but in a way it was as though someone had intensified his anger, his emotions – to the extent that he didn't know what he was thinking, what he was doing. Something was wrong with the way he was thinking, and Dorian didn't understand it at all. And that scared him. And there was no one at all he could ask for help.

In fact, things had been wrong ever since that day when he'd stormed through the city. The way he thought, the way he moved, the way he did normal, everyday things was wrong. And there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do to fix things. And even if Dorian was able to ask for help, which he seriously doubted at the moment, there was no one at all left that he could ask.

Chaol had willingly abandoned him weeks ago – Dorian had known, deep down he'd _known_, that when Chaol left Rifthold with his wife and newborn child, that they weren't coming back. This had then been confirmed by one of the few spies he had that weren't in Athril's pocket. The spy that Dorian had set on Chaol in order to ensure his loyalty and tracked the Westfall family's movements, not west to Anielle, but due north to the border with Terrasen. The Westfall family was no longer welcome in Rifthold, in Adarlan.

Athril, Dorian knew, wasn't really working for him. Oh, Athril might have acted like he was working for Dorian, may have pretended to be his friend, but Dorian knew better. Dorian had been curious about Athril's constant absences and had snuck into his rooms when he was away once. For once Dorian felt as though his snooping had paid off and had found some rather incriminating evidence. Athril had only pretended to be an ally of Adarlan and was undoubtedly in the service of Terrasen. So, even if Athril had been there, he would not be willing to help him.

But Manon, where was his beloved Manon? She would surely try to help him. But the fact that she wasn't, the fact that he didn't know where she was, told him that something was wrong. He loved Manon, and he would do anything for her, and had always assumed that she would do the same for him. So why wasn't she there for him? He needed her, now more than ever before, and she wasn't there for him.

So, all in all, there was no one left for Dorian to turn to for help. Chaol and Athril were traitors, Manon was missing, and there was no one else he could trust to help him at all. He was lost in a world of despair and madness and there was no one to pull him out of it.

And then there was the strange Fae woman who had been calling herself his wife ever since that day in the city. That angry day of his was a day he could barely remember. He didn't really know what had happened that day. Was unable to remember it clearly. All he truly remembered was his fury, his anger, at Aelin, at the world. Dorian knew that he had been storming angrily through the city, and then, nothing. After that, all Dorian knew, all he remembered, was the strange woman strutting into his life, calling herself his wife.

Lyria. That was her name. A Fae woman from Wendlyn. A stranger to these lands. But not a stranger, in a way. She knew too much about him, his life and his kingdom, to be a real stranger. And the fact that this Lyria knew so much about him, and had somehow married him without him, Dorian, ever meeting her before was just plain creepy. No, disturbing.

Dorian had never met her before. Didn't know why he had married her, especially when he was quite happily engaged to Manon. Despite technically being married to Lyria, Dorian was still in love with Manon. And the fact that he was deeply in love with one witch, and then suddenly married to a Fae woman that he had never met before, deeply disturbed Dorian. More than he could say.

But Dorian still knew that there was something wrong about his relationship with this Lyria. Lyria was Fae – a race of people that Dorian had been raised to distrust and despise. And despite his brief friendship with Rowan Whitethorn, Dorian still felt deeply uncomfortable around people of Fae extraction. Still hated them on principle alone.

Dorian had never really believed his father's warnings about the doom and destruction that the Fae brought upon a kingdom, but after the Fae had now tricked him into marrying one of their kind, how could he not take every word of his father's warnings as anything but pure truth?

He had, at first, considered reaching out to Aelin to help him contain the threat that Lyria posed to his life, and the threat that she posed to his kingdom. But then Dorian had stopped himself upon remembering that Aelin had Fae ancestry and was married to a Fae male, pregnant with a Fae child. Due to her connections to the Fae, Aelin couldn't be trusted one bit.

But to Dorian, the fact that he believed that he had no one left that he could talk to, no one left who could help him, was not the most disturbing part. No, to Dorian, even after everything that he had been through, the most disturbing fact was that Lyria's particular brand of magic. The way she could make him do whatever the hell she wanted. So, Dorian flatly observed that even if there was someone he could trust that would be willing to help him, Lyria would likely prevent him from contacting them.

Even in the few short weeks that they'd been married, Lyria had forced him to pass some laws that he disagreed with. Laws that he believed could be detrimental to the future of Adarlan.

It was, Dorian observed, almost as though she were trying to make the world pay for past sins that had been committed against her. Almost as though she knew who to punish and was trying to make them bleed for wronging her. Trying to get revenge for something that had been done to her.

Dorian had to wonder who the hell it was that Lyria wanted revenge on. If she was going to such extremes, then they must have done something particularly horrible to her. Horrors that he could scarcely even imagine, even with the horrors that he had seen in the war. Even worse than Lyria raping him multiple times each night.

For Lyria had started sexually abusing him from the day of their 'marriage'. Dorian had always enjoyed women before his engagement to Manon, but even he knew the difference between willing sex and sex that was forcibly taken.

What with Lyria's magic forcing him to comply with her wishes, she had been forcing him to bed her. To make love to a woman he hated beyond reason. As though she thought that forcing Dorian would make him want it. Want her. And Dorian hated Lyria for it. He despised her.

Dorian hated a lot of people for a lot of reasons. But right now, Dorian hated Lyria and Aelin the most.

Aelin paced irritably around her chambers in the Palace of Orynth has her mate and court watched and waited. Waited for her to react to the news that Athril had just sent ahead. Waited for her to speak.

"Why?" Aelin suddenly whispered, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. "Why now? Why would they come here _now?_ I thought that they were all cosied up for the last few weeks of winter down south in Adarlan."

"I have already explained this to you, Aelin," Aedion said as patiently and gently as he could. "Athril's letter said that things had become far too risky for him and the Thirteen to remain so close to Rifthold. Too dangerous for them to remain there. It was safer for them to flee north. To the safety of Orynth. The safety of Terrasen."

"I understand that much," Aelin said, with a faux calmness. "But why on earth would they bring _Sam Cortland_ with them? I mean, isn't he one of the two main perpetrators of all these threats?"

"The intelligence that Athril is bringing us says that Sam may not have been involved by choice," Aedion said quietly. "Athril didn't want to risk put the news that he's bringing in a letter, in case it was intercepted, but what little news he put in the letter says that Sam may have come around, and wanted to abandon Lyria's plans because of the way she'd been treating him or something. I admit that part didn't make much sense. But Athril didn't feel that it would be safe for Sam to be around Lyria anymore and removed him from the situation and put him in the Thirteen's camp so they could keep an eye on him for Athril."

Rowan sighed at this. He'd once known Lyria after all. He knew just how underhanded she could be when she didn't get her own way. Rowan also knew just how little she had thought of humans – thinking them to be almost as lowly as chattel. He did not want to even imagine what the boy must have endured at Lyria's hands.

"And they're now bringing him _here?_" Aelin said, still stunned and unable to process what they were saying. "To _my_ home? How could they? Do they even know what… What…"

Aelin broke off, unable to continue. With another sigh, Rowan walked over to Aelin and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. Aelin leant her head against his chest as tears threatened to spill over.

"I don't want him here," Aelin said stubbornly. "Athril and Manon can stay here, as well as the Thirteen, but he _has_ to find other accommodation in the city."

"Don't be like that, Aelin," Fenrys said quietly. "Besides, if Lyria really is after the boy's blood, it'll be safer for him to stay here, where we can keep an eye on him. I believe that you're better than Lyria. So be better than her."

"You're not normally so petty, Aelin," Chaol murmured softly, he and his family had arrived in Orynth just a day or two before. "What's the real reason you don't want him staying here at the palace?"

"Because I'm scared!" Aelin finally burst out, as their well-meaning comfort and support finally got to be too much for her now fragile nerves to take. "Because I'm too damn cowardly and way too scared to _ever_ be able to face him!"

Dead silence. The type of silence that was so quiet that you could almost hear it. The type of silence that almost had a life of its own. There was no other sound in the room as Aelin's words sunk in.

"Aelin, I wouldn't call you a coward," Aedion said gently. "Yes, you've been through a lot in the last few years, but you have always been strong. You can be strong again now. You have more than proved yourself."

"But I just left him there," Aelin whimpered, clinging tighter to Rowan as he held her close. "I just left him in Hamel's hands. And then I just left him there for Lyria to take advantage of. I _left_ him."

"None of this is your fault, Aelin," Chaol said. "The world believed that Sam was dead. There was no reason at all for anyone to believe anything different."

"But I still blame myself," Aelin whispered. "All I can think is that if I did something differently, then maybe things would be different now."

"You can't let all the what-ifs and maybes drive you mad. Neither of us can," Rowan said quietly. "I've been doing the same thing, believe me. But we can't change the past. And now we have to find a way to ensure the safety of the world, of the future. Especially for the sake of our child."

"Guess that means I just have to grow up and be a responsible adult about it?" Aelin muttered grumpily. As much as she hated it, she realised that she didn't exactly have much choice in the matter.

"Not yet," Rowan murmured, holding Aelin close and stroking her hair gently. "You can feel however you want to feel about it for a few more hours yet."

On that note everyone quietly filed out of the room, leaving the couple alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**~14~**

Terrasen was very different from what Sam Cortland had expected. He wasn't sure what he had expected from the northern kingdom, but it sure as hell wasn't this. The towering mountain peaks dominated the landscape, able to be observed from miles away. The grassy, forested lowlands were the only part of Terrasen's countryside that reminded him of Adarlan, of home.

Yes, Sam was forced to admit that there were mountains in Adarlan, but at least those gentle grassy slopes were what mountains were meant to be. Not these frozen monstrosities.

Sam was brought out of his reverie by the gentle murmur of nearby voices. "I can't believe that we're almost at Orynth already. The flight north normally takes longer than this," Sam heard someone say.

"I certainly wish that we had longer to enjoy ourselves before continuing on to Orynth," he heard a man's voice say. Definitely Athril. "I had forgotten just how beautiful Terrasen is. Now I remember just why Brannon and his descendants have always loved it so much."

The first voice laughed at that. Definitely a female laugh. Low and sexy. "Say that in front of Aelin and it'll sound like you're sucking up to her. She thinks that Terrasen is the most beautiful kingdom in the world and that the rest of the kingdoms on the continent are terribly inferior."

"But Adarlan_ is_ terribly inferior to Terrasen," Athril sassed back. He couldn't resist the teasing. Back in the country that his dear friend had loved so fiercely, the woman he loved in his arms… It almost felt as though there was no shadow ready to overtake the world, no eternal darkness ready to devour all that was good and kind and _right_ in the world.

"I wonder how Sam is going to cope when we reach Orynth," the female voice said worriedly, ignoring Athril's teasing.

"You're worried about the boy, aren't you Manon?" Athril said almost tiredly.

"And you aren't?" Manon replied, the stress in her voice now obvious. "You can't deny that you aren't worried, I've seen how stressed you are when you so much as look at him."

"Yes, I'm worried about Sam as well," Athril admitted. "I'm starting to worry that I did the wrong thing when I saved him from Lyria. If I'd left him there, I could gone back regularly to check on him, to keep an easy eye on Lyria, find out what more of her plans are. Now we're left out in the cold."

"You did the right thing Athril," Manon said gently. "Yes, things are harder now that we don't have easy access to Lyria and her plans, but you did the right thing for Sam. He didn't deserve to be treated the way she treated him. No one does. And besides, if you left him, who knows what would have happened to his mental health?"

"I'm also worried about what Sam will go through when we reach Orynth," Athril continued flatly, as though Manon hadn't spoken at all. "He'll have to face Aelin again – who he knew as Celaena – for the first time in four years. I know he's _said_ that he understands and accepts why Aelin moved on with her life, but no young man is ever _that_ accepting. I'm worried that he'll blow up when he sees her with Rowan, sees how far her pregnancy has progressed."

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Manon said quietly, frowning. "Now that I stop and think about it, we never actually told Sam that he would have to see her again when we fled Adarlan. Maybe we should have told him. It would have given him some time to prepare himself mentally, at least."

"We should have," Athril admitted. "None of us were thinking very clearly that day. I know I wasn't – I was far too panicked about what I saw and what it could mean."

"You are not the only person to blame, Athril," Manon insisted. "I blamed myself for not moving the camp earlier. I blamed myself for jeopardising the Sam's safety and the safety of the Thirteen, for waiting until I knew you were safe as well."

"Come to mention it, I was rather pissed off about that," he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. "But I also found it rather flattering, in a way. That you would risk the safety of your friends just to make sure that little old me was alright."

"You're a cad," Manon snapped, punching Athril in the arm, making him stagger. "You think a few fancy words will be enough to win _my_ heart? Well, I'll have you know—"

At that, Athril surged forward to kiss Manon passionately. "Actually, I'll have you know," Athril said once he broke away, "all it will take to win your heart will be a bit of kindness and human decency. If that weren't the case, you would never, ever, have cheated on Dorian with me."

"Since when were you Mr Smooth," Manon said, leaning into his embrace. "Not that I'm saying that you are, because you most definitely are not."

"Not very romantic of you, Manon," Athril replied, leaning in for another kiss, completely oblivious to the fact that the other witches in the camp were waking up. The thought made Sam smile a bit. Ever since Lyria had abused him, and Celaena had abandoned him before that, he had a disparaging state of mind when it came to romance.

"Ugh, why can't you two get a room?" Asterin grumbled upon seeing the pair. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for Athril and Manon, it was just hard for her to see them together, especially after losing her last lover.

"Maybe because there isn't a room, Asterin," Athril sassed back cheerfully. "There won't be a room for another day or two, not until we reach Orynth."

In that moment Athril was looking over at Asterin and thus missed the expression that Manon was wearing. It was part lust, part jealousy and part something else.

"Whatever you say, old man," Asterin purred in response, glancing surreptitiously at Athril out of the corner of her eye to see if Athril had seen Manon's expression. When it became apparent that he hadn't, Asterin turned the conversation to other topics.

"How do you think Aelin will deal with this new information that we have?" Asterin asked, eyes flickering between Manon and Athril.

"I'm not sure," Athril said honestly. "In one of her last letters, Aelin pretty much said that she considers her friendship with Dorian to be over, because she can't forgive him for standing aside and letting Lyria become this powerful. But we don't have the time for personal feelings to get in the way of doing the right thing."

"That's true," Manon butted in, "especially when this whole bloody thing with Lyria is like a powder keg waiting to waiting to explode. One wrong move, and the world will explode. As much as we can't afford another war, we have to be realistic. Open war likely is Lyria's end game, if she can't get what she wants by other means."

"Lyria has been clever about hiding the extent of her knowledge and her plans so far," Ghislaine said, entering the conversation for the first time. "But she isn't the only clever person who knows how to play the game. I'm sure that by working together, we can outwit her."

"Well said, Ghislaine," Athril said, groaning. "I can only pray that we can."

"Are you saying that you think Lyria is smarter than us?" Ghislaine asked, suddenly worried.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Athril groaned again. "Maybe I am. I mean, after all, we've barely been able to stay one step ahead of her all this time. And I'm afraid, too. I'm afraid that there is far worse yet to come, afraid that we haven't seen the true extent of Lyria's nastiness. I'm scared that she's even more evil than she's letting on. And I don't know what to do next."

"But you always know what to do!" one of the gathered witches exclaimed so loudly that the words echoed through the trees until the forest was ringing with the sound of her voice. "You can do anything!"

"I wish that were true," Athril said miserably. Gone was the man in love that he had been just a few minute before. Here was a broken man, weighed down by the expectations that had been piled on him. He had tried so hard to hide it from them for so long, but in reality the Fae male that they had all thought he was, was no more.

"Athril…" Manon said as she crouched beside him as he sank to the ground. "What happened? Can you tell me?"

"I don't know," Athril croaked out, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know what happened. Honestly, I don't know. It was as though all the pressure on me, all of the expectations, just… _crushed_ me. Crushed my _soul_. I couldn't cope with it all. I can't cope with it all."

"You'll feel better once we've reached Orynth," Manon said gently as she wrapped her arms around him. "A more positive atmosphere will help."

"A more positive atmosphere will most definitely _not_ help," Athril growled, nearly shouting. "Because it will be just the same in Orynth as it was down in Adarlan. A whole whopping heap of expectations that I can't meet. Expectations that I will never be able to meet."

"But just remember that Aelin and Rowan know what it's like to be in your shoes," Manon said quietly. "They know what it's like to be shoved so far down that you can't even help yourself. And yet they kept moving forward, kept fighting back. I remember Aelin telling me once that you don't know how strong you are until you need to be that strong. Then you can do anything at all."

"I failed her too, you know," Athril nearly shrieked. "Aelin. I swore to Brannon that I would protect his bloodline, his descendants. To protect Terrasen for him. But I was unable to look after Aelin. She was just a child, and she needed to protected. I let that monster Hamel take her in after her parents were killed, and look what happened to her! Hamel did everything in his power to turn her into a monster. I couldn't look after one little girl, and she was turned into a monster by a psychopath. I broke Brannon's trust. He'll never forgive me."

"But Hamel didn't manage it. He didn't break her," Manon soothed as the rest of the Thirteen stood awkwardly by. "Despite everything Aelin went through, she's not a monster. She's a good person, who knows what it is to love and be loved. Brannon would be proud of her, and I think you will be too."

"Do you really think so?" Athril hiccupped. "I can't bring myself to hope…"

"You _know_ that Aelin's not a monster," Manon sighed. "You may not have met Aelin yet, but you sure have corresponded plenty with her. She's happy with Rowan, and they're looking forward to the child that they're having. Terrasen is healing, recovering from the war, and I think a lot of that has to do with Aelin."

"Do you really believe that?" Athril asked, a tinge of hope finally back in his voice.

"Yes," Manon said simply. "You haven't seen it yet, but outside of this forest, the kingsflame is blooming again, in a way it hasn't since the time of Brannon. And surely you have to know what that means."

"It means that Terrasen is at true peace and that its ruler has been blessed by Brannon himself," Athril whispered in shock, but slowly starting to look a bit more like his old self again. He was still in shock, but the ghost of a smile began to grace Athril's face.

"Okay, that's enough," Sam suddenly snapped, storming over to where the coven was clustered around Athril. "We've managed to cheer up the Fae male. Hurray. Well, isn't that just _great_ for you, isn't it? But what about doing something about making _me_ feel just a teensy little bit better? You know, what with everything that_ I'm_ going through?"

Everyone just stared at him, blinking in shock. None of them had known Sam to be so angry at the world – at them. This sort of behavior was out of character for him, and they all knew it. Asterin was the first to snap out of the shock.

"What on earth are you talking about, Sam?" Asterin asked, confusion lacing her tone. "Ever since Athril brought you to us, we've done nothing but treat you kindly, and tried to help cope with the trauma that you've endured. Not that you've made it very easy for us."

"Ask them, ask them!" Sam shrieked, pointing wildly at Athril and Manon. "I heard their entire conversation this morning! They didn't think I was awake and listening, but I was! I was! They were saying how much better this _horrible_ place is, compared to Adarlan and saying that I'm not coping well enough to come to Orynth with you! They want to abandon me! They don't care about me! No one cares about me! Everyone hates me!"

"No one hates you, Sam," Manon said quietly from where she was still crouched next to Athril. This was shaping up to be a long morning, and it was barely dawn. "Athril was just worried about how you were going to cope seeing Aelin again after so long. Particularly after everything that you've been through in the last four years. You have to admit that you haven't been free for very long. We were just concerned for you."

"See!" Sam shrieked again, storming back off to gather his things. "No one trusts me! No one even likes me!"

"No one said that that they didn't like him or trust him," Kaya pointed out unhelpfully. "Just that we're concerned for him. Not the same thing at all."

"I hope there's a better reception for us in the capital," Asterin muttered darkly. "We deserve that much at least."

Agreement quickly rumbled through the clearing.


	15. Chapter 15

**15**

Sam was staring in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. He had to be imagining things. He just had to be. He was definitely hallucinating. He just had to be hallucinating at the moment. After everything he had endured, his mind had finally broken, and he was hallucinating.

Sam had to be hallucinating, because he just couldn't be standing in front of Celaena right now. After the way she had abandoned him to the whims of Arobynn Hamel four years before, there was no way on earth she would dare face him again. And even if she did want to attempt to 'make things right between them' there was _no way_ on earth that Manon and Athril would make him agree to face her. Not when they knew and understood everything that he had endured these last four years.

However, coming face to face with Sam Cortland for the first time in four years was just as hard for Aelin as it was for Sam. The worries that she had only recently expressed to Rowan and the inner members of her court were tightly hidden behind her smoothly calm façade.

Unfortunately for them, the calm façade that she presented was fooling Sam into believing that she didn't care about him. That their former relationship meant absolutely nothing to her. As of right now, Sam was truly starting to believe that Celaena would have willingly helped Hamel fake his death, just so she could move on with her life, and reclaim her throne, conveniently forgetting the year she had spent in the slave mines of Endovier along the way.

Athril, Manon and the Thirteen, along with Rowan and the few members of Aelin's court that were present remained silent – give the two of them a chance to work things out between themselves, and if things started to get a bit heated would they step in. And only then. But deep down, under their momentary vow of restraint, beneath their momentary vow of doing what they could to keep the peace, they were all hoping that a peaceful outcome was a foregone conclusion, despite the odds against it.

And in the moment before Sam spoke, Athril knew that the worry and concern that he'd felt in regards to this first meeting between Sam and Aelin spoke true. Sam _wasn't_ ready for it, not mentally at least. Athril was more than right to be concerned, because Sam was simply itching for a fight. He was just longing for it.

"Looks like you've done pretty well for yourself, Celaena," Sam said bitterly, resentfully. "Maybe this was all part of some grand scheme you had all along – to grow old enough and strong enough to reclaim your throne, regardless of how much it hurt the people you left behind. The people who thought you cared about them."

"Aelin," Aelin snapped back, annoyed. Why did so many people insist on dragging up the past, insisting that she failed them in some way? At least this time she felt as though Sam had some right to be angry. She _had_ certainly failed him. Several times. "My name is Aelin. Not Celaena. My name never was Celaena. Deep down, I have always been Aelin. I always hated being called Celaena, because I'm not her. I'm Aelin."

"So I've heard," Sam said, the bitterness still lacing his tone. "But I want to ask you some _personal_ questions about all of this. What on earth has been your motive these last past twelve years? If you had such a great inheritance as a Queen, why on earth was Arobynn raising you? Knowing you the way I did, I would have thought that you would have preferred to have this entire bloody freezing kingdom fawning all over you and spoiling every moment of every day. We both know how brutal Arobynn's style of parenting was, even if he cared about the person as much as he cared about you?"

"You want to know what my motive was for twelve years?" Aelin snapped back, suddenly angrier than ever. "My motive was to do whatever it took to stay alive. Do you have any idea whatsoever what my life was like for the ten years between the Adarlanian conquest and the day I took back my throne?"

"I would think so," Sam said, the bitterness being replaced by a slight angry arrogance. "We were raised side by side for most of our childhoods, after all. You always enjoyed being Arobynn Hamel's pampered darling, learning how to kill from him, while the rest of us barely got a moment of his attention. I loved you dearly, and thought you loved me back. But you only ever faked caring about me, faked loving me. Then you somehow helped Hamel fake my death, and happily moved on with your life, taking back your throne and a life of luxury, which is what I suppose you wanted all along."

"You have no idea what my life has been like, Sam," Aelin said angrily. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me when I was eight years old and suffering and grieving, with everyone who ever cared about me lost to me forever?"

"I suppose I'm about to find out how wonderful it was for you, aren't I?" Sam hissed back.

At this, Athril, Manon, Rowan, and Aedion all looked at each other in despair. Sam was far too angry to think rationally right now. He didn't care what Aelin had to say to him. His previous show of acceptance for what Aelin had been through in the last four years had been just that, a show. Maybe it had been real in the beginning, but actually standing face to face with Aelin for the first time in four years had reignited that deep, curdling anger in him.

"Do you know what it was like for me, _Sam Cortland_, when I woke up between my parents' corpses, covered in their blood? Later that day, my parents' assassin came back to kill me as well," Aelin said, her tension and anger obvious to all. "I only escaped because my nursemaid gave her life for me. And how did I repay her sacrifice? By becoming another assassin, raised by Arobynn to be as horrible as the very people who killed my _entire_ family. And then I fell in love with you, and Arobynn led me to believe that you had been killed by Rourke Farran. When I attempted to avenge your death, I wound up being caught, as it was all a trap that Farran and Hamel set up for me. And I was sentenced to be a slave in Endovier. Just because I fell in love with you, Sam. Just because Hamel felt that he owned me, and he didn't like to share his precious _belongings_."

"And I suppose you feel like that sob story justifies what you put me through?" Sam said, an as yet unseen quiet menace suddenly seeping through his words, his posture. "What about what I went through when I realised that you had abandoned me to my fate, being imprisoned by Hamel and his cronies for four years straight before I was able to fight my way free? Do you have any idea what I went through when I found out that the woman I loved was not who she told me she was, that she was the lost queen of my kingdom's enemy? That my beloved had not only fallen in love with someone else and married him, but had conceived a child with that Fae bastard deserter? A child that should have been mine? Do you not think that I have a right to kill your unborn child after what you have put me through? Do you not think that to be the justice that I more than deserve after everything that I have been through these last few years, while you have been living in the lap of luxury, being waited upon hand and foot? For all I know, that's all you ever wanted."

"You have to be kidding me, Sam," Athril suddenly barked loudly. "You go on about what you have endured in the last four years, but what about what Aelin has been through in the last twelve years? What you have been through is nothing but a drop of water in the vastness of the ocean when compared to her suffering. And now you wish to compound her grief and suffering by talking about killing her unborn baby, to her face?"

"Why shouldn't I kill the child?" Sam declared defiantly. "We all know that child should be mine, better to kill it before it gets a chance to live. In fact, it would be better to kill the brat's father, as well, that way he wouldn't be able to steal Celaena from me again."

"Rowan never stole me from you, Sam," Aelin said brokenly, tears streaming down her face. "Our relationship was ended by your supposed death. I didn't get involved with Rowan for a year and half afterward. Not until well after I had been freed from Endovier. I did love you Sam, but the love I feel for Rowan is far stronger. Far more enduring. And Rowan loves me as much as I love him. And we both already adore this baby we're going to have together."

"Why should I believe you?" Sam demanded to know. "Why should I believe you after the way you abandoned me all those years ago? Why shouldn't I just kill you now for what you subjected me to, the way Lyria wanted to? I didn't want to believe her when she said that you willingly abandoned me, that you willingly subjected me to Hamel's personal brand of torture. But maybe she was right all along. Maybe you _should_ die for what you've done. And maybe I should be the one to kill you for it."

"You dare threaten a reigning queen to her face?" A man that Sam didn't know suddenly interjected, nearly shouting. "You dare threaten the life of a reigning queen to her face, in her own palace – the seat of her power? I am sure that you are aware that just _discussing_ the murder of our Queen is treason and could earn you a cell in the dungeons, if not a traitor's execution?"

Sam merely gaped at the man in disbelief. Was there something about this man that just made people hate him? He hadn't been speaking treasonously, he'd just been speaking the truth. And the truth was that he didn't believe that _Aelin_ deserved to call herself a Queen after everything the pair of them had been through together growing up. She didn't have the right, she had left that part of her life behind her.

"But what if Aelin doesn't deserve to call herself a queen?" Sam demanded. "What if she left that part of her life behind her when she was a child? I personally think that this frozen hellhole of a kingdom would do better with someone else on the throne. Or at the very least, with a different consort married to the queen. Someone else."

"That someone else being you?" Aelin said in a strangled tone of voice, those who knew Aelin knew that she was attempting to hide her anger. Sam's insinuation did not sit well with her, nor did it sit well with the rest of them. If he thought that she would leave Rowan for him than he had another thing coming. Aelin had no idea what on earth he was thinking.

"Of course," Sam replied simply. "Despite everything that you put me through, despite your abandonment of me, I still love you. I still think that I would be a better match for you than one of the Fae would be."

"All right, I've heard enough of this," the strange man who had spoken before said sharply. "Young man, you are under arrest due to treasonous words you have spoken against the Queen of Terrasen and her consort. Take him down to the dungeons."

Two of the guards that Sam hadn't noticed discreetly guarding the throne room came forward and took Sam's arms before leading him forcefully out of the room. Before Sam was fully out of earshot, he heard Aelin speak again. "Darrow, you didn't—" Then the door slammed shut and he heard no more from within.

To Sam's surprise the dungeon cell he was placed in was in better condition than he had expected. But despite the much improved conditions in comparison to what he was used to in regards to imprisonment, he was still pretty pissed off at Aelin for allowing that courtier to place him in the dungeons, especially seeing as she knew that he had already been locked up and imprisoned for years.

What Sam didn't understand was why that courtier had gotten so angry at him. After all, he hadn't done anything treasonous. He had just spoken the truth. Besides, it wasn't as though he could really be convicted of treason, he was an Adarlanian citizen, not a Terrasenite citizen. As an Adarlanian citizen by birth, he legally wasn't allowed to stand trial in another kingdom. At that thought Sam preened, surely these bigots would be realise that and set him free when they realised it, with heartfelt apologies, and an offer to sit on the Terrasenite throne as Aelin's consort, which was where he believed he should rightfully be.

Sam didn't know how long he had been in the dungeons for by the time Athril and Manon came down to see him, but he thought that several hours seemed likely estimate. To Sam's absolute horror it seemed as though they agreed that he should remain locked up, asking why he had said those things, that they had had no idea that he felt that way, and that they thought he had been getting over what had happened to him and moving on with his life. Moving away from his obsessive thoughts about Aelin, as though that were possible! Why on earth had the two of them brought him straight to his beloved, if they did not want them to be together? It made no sense to him. None of this made any sense at all.

He had almost begun to hope that Aelin would still return his sentiment, still return his love when he had been dragged off and placed in the dungeons. If only that cranky old man hadn't interrupted, than his glorious future – his glorious destiny – would have been assured. He would have had Aelin back in his arms where she belonged.

Sam had already won Aelin's heart once, back when she was still his beloved Celaena. And deep down, Sam knew he could do it again. He just needed to work out a plan, and then get out of this godforsaken dungeon somehow. And if Athril and Manon weren't going to help him, if they were on the side of Aelin's supposed 'husband' and the man who had put him in this cell, then may the gods help them all, especially if they stood in his way. He did not understand why Athril and Manon were so doubtful that any plan he came up with could work. It wasn't like Aelin had any magic to speak, she didn't have any! Athril and Manon were just trying to rain on his parade. They didn't truly believe in him the way Aelin did. This was going to be so easy it was almost stupid.

Still in the throne room several hours after Darrow had ordered Sam be placed in the dungeons, under arrest for treason, Aelin and Rowan, and several others were still staring at Darrow in shock. None of them had expected Darrow to do what he had done today. None of them had expected Darrow to defend Aelin so significantly, that he'd stand up to the man who was threatening to kill her and Rowan, and their unborn child.

"Why?" Aelin suddenly whispered, breaking the silence. From the quiver in her voice, Rowan knew that she was either still in shock or attempting not to cry. "Why did you do that? Why did you defend me like that?"

"Because you are my Queen, and it is my duty to defend you," Darrow said proudly, head held high. "With my life if need be. And I am truly sorry of my negligence and temperament has made me speak out of turn in recent months. I realise that these past months have been hard on you, and I did not make it any easier for you. My love for my kingdom causes me to angrily speak out of turn, on occasion."

"Uncle Orlon always said that you were loyal to Terrasen above all else," Aelin said thoughtfully as she watched him carefully. "I remember that he once told me that he thought your love for your country and your pride would one day be your downfall."

"And Orlon was right," Darrow said quietly. "His Majesty always said the same to me. Orlon told me that I had to learn to be more open minded and accepting of different ways of thinking. I have started to come to the conclusion that it was his way of telling me that he considered me old fashioned and hidebound."

There was silence as Aelin thought Darrow's words over, and watching her watch him, no one else dared to speak. It was true that Darrow had been rather harsh with her in the past, and he had been harsh with Sam today. But without that harsh treatment today, who knew what could have happened? Sam had clearly grown delusional over the course of imprisonment that Arobynn Hamel had bestowed upon him, and Lyria's treatment of him afterwards would not have helped his frame of mind. In their earlier letters and messages, Athril and Manon had thought that Sam was starting to recover from the abuse he had undoubtedly suffered, but it was now obvious that he had merely shown them what they wanted to see.

"I have always found it difficult to trust new people," Aelin said quietly, watching Darrow's reaction carefully. "So I naturally didn't trust you, Darrow. But I would like to start afresh."

"Nothing would please me more," Darrow said, his relief and happiness blooming on his face for all to see.

The world was changing once again. And now they had to change with it or be forever left behind, you could not cling to the old ways forever, Darrow saw that now. And if being with Rowan made his queen happy, then he was not going to say or do anything that would jeopardise her happiness. After the tragedies of her childhood and the horrors that she had endured in the years since, then she deserved that happiness. He had been a damn right fool to fight her in the last two and a half years. Darrow hoped that Orlon would be proud of him, wherever he was now, for making peace with his niece. It had been the right thing to do, he was sure of it.


	16. Chapter 16

**~16~**

Lyria was beyond furious. She was absolutely enraged. How could any of this be happening? This was not going according to plan. None of her plans included this! What on earth was she meant to do with this new information? It wasn't like she could just give up now, she had come too far, come so close that she could almost taste victory.

But now? Now she didn't have a clue what was going on. It felt as though her carefully laid plans were slowly sliding through her fingers, disappearing into the mist and she didn't have a single idea on how to fix it.

And she had to find a way to fix her plans somehow, adjust them, make them better, for she was not about to give up on her revenge now – not when she could sense all of the effort she had put into her plans for revenge had started to come to fruition. She was so close to succeeding that she could almost feel it.

At least some of her plans had been put into place before this latest hiccup had occurred. So far the only plans that had some chance of succeeding involved Sam Cortland and Dorian Haviliard. Lyria had not been terribly impressed that day that Athril had barged in on her having sex with Sam, but she also knew that she would be able to use his misconceptions and assumptions against him. It had been the matter of moments for her to realise that Athril thought that she was abusing Sam, but when it came down to it, that wasn't the full truth. It wasn't even half the truth, as far as she was concerned.

Yes, at first, she had merely been using Sam for her own gain, her own profit. She had been using her compellability magic on him to make him agree to her plans, to make agree to becoming her sexual plaything. But what very few people knew, what Athril didn't know, was that if she used her compellability on a human for long enough, they would become totally immersed in it and she was able to keep the cloak of magic on a human almost permanently, no matter the distance between them. And if the cloak of magic was to be ever removed from the human, their mind would be forever damaged, and they would not be able to survive without her. Not that they would want to live anymore anyway.

And that had become the case for her and Sam Cortland. He was a weak human, weakened by the years of his imprisonment in the Assassins Guild. Weakened by the torture he had endured at Hamel's hands. And all of that opened him up to her as easily as slicing into butter. Sam Cortland had been totally under her control when Athril took him away from her, thinking that he was 'saving' Sam from her. But Sam hadn't been saved, Athril had been doomed.

It was because of her bond with Sam that she knew Athril knew about the wedding between her and Dorian Haviliard, and that Athril and the Thirteen had decided to flee north to Terrasen and had taken Sam with them. Which was exactly where she had wanted Sam to be, for obvious reasons. The one way connection she had with Sam made it easier for him to gather information about the royal court of Terrasen for her.

Now, Lyria thought, her plans for King Dorian Haviliard were really quite devious in fact. So simple minded in its brilliance. Over years of research, Lyria had discovered that placed her magic on a human male at the very moment of the binding effect in the inherent magic of a wedding ceremony took place, then the human man would be forever bound to her, his mind almost entirely enslaved by her. Whereas her normal brand of compellability magic usually left the human with _some_ small level of free will that they were barely able to act upon, the marriage version of it left him with none. As of the moment Dorian slid the wedding ring onto her finger, Lyria controlled every single one of his thoughts, every single one of his actions. Unlike Sam, Dorian no longer had any private thoughts that Lyria couldn't touch, no more free will. His mind and will had been completely subsumed by Lyra's mere presence.

Yes, Dorian's resentment toward his friends had been growing for months, but in a way that only made it easier for her to slide in and turn those resentful thoughts into thoughts of anger. Where Dorian had once been a reasonably decent and considerate young king, now stood an angry young man who hated everything his kingdom, his people, his friends and _their_ kingdoms stood for. In other words, here stood a young man with nothing but bloody vengeance on his mind.

But her using her magic on Dorian currently served more than one purpose. With Dorian's sense of self being wiped away and his essence being replaced with her will, Lyria was effectively the King of Adarlan as well as its Queen. The position of absolute power that she currently enjoyed because of it was one that she intended to milk for all it was worth. The politicians and nobles that were falling over themselves to gain her favour, the size of the territory she now ruled over, the armies and navies that she now commanded, all of that power was incredibly intoxicating, and she had no intention of ever surrendering that power.

Now, Lyria thought, all she had to do was decide what course of action to take in regards to the correspondence she had just received. She stared down at the letter she had just received in a mixture of confusion and distaste.

A contact of Lyria's, had written to her to inform her that that Rowan's cousin, Endymion Whitethorn was to visit Terrasen. This contact of hers was in fact the closest thing to a friend that she had ever allowed herself to have during Rowan's absence from her life, but that did not mean that Lyria trusted her completely.

But Lyria also could not allow her cousin-in-law to set foot on this continent, not yet at any rate. Better for him to wait a few months until Rowan was safely back in her arms before there was any sort of a reunion. Especially as she had seen Endymion several times over the centuries. She was fairly certain that he had never recognised her, as she had grown adept at disguising herself, but she had once used him and flirted with him shamelessly to gain whatever information she could about Rowan.

Lyria was not ashamed of her actions. She would never be ashamed of herself. At every step of this journey she had done what was necessary to kill Rowan's little harlot who fancied herself a queen, and bring Rowan back to her. Ever since Rowan had left her two hundred years ago, she had done whatever it took to bring Rowan back to her. And she would continue to do whatever it took to bring Rowan back into her arms, no matter the cost.

On the other hand, Lyria felt as though there was actually very little she could actually do, as Endymion was likely already at sea. Well, if she couldn't _innocently_ harm the male at sea, then she would have to just act after his ship landed, Lyria thought. A mild sedative or poison would surely work the best for her purposes. As Lyria had reason to know, food poisoning could be the absolute _worst_ thing ever.

As Lyria continued plot ways to prevent Endymion from setting foot in Terrasen in the foreseeable future, she had no idea that her enemies in Terrasen were also plotting. And in their case, they were plotting her downfall. This was a game of scheming and political manoeuvrings that neither side intended to lose.

* * *

As the innermost members of Aelin's court sat around the large table in the palace's council room, Aelin frowned at the Fae male who had only just arrived from Doranelle the day before. "And are you _positive_ that this was a good idea?" Aelin repeated for what must have been the third or fourth time in less than an hour.

"Your Majesty should show a bit more respect to foreign envoys," Darrow quickly interrupted before their guest could speak. "I know your parents and great uncle raised you to be better than that. Better than this."

Aelin fought the urge to roll her eyes. Despite Darrow's recent attempt to make peace and end their feud he still couldn't stop himself from making little digs at her. Not to humiliate her and put her down as he would have done before, but more to remind her of her own failings and as a reminder not to waste time as it was her life on the line.

"It's perfectly fine, Lord Darrow," Endymion Whitethorn said pleasantly, though Darrow failed to notice that he was being frowned at. "In Aelin's position, I would likely be just as paranoid about it as well. It's her life, and the lives of my cousin and their unborn child on the line, after all. I would think that she has every right to be afraid right now."

Darrow frowned a bit at that hearing Endymion call Aelin by her given name, clearly disapproving. But when no one else mentioned anything about, he was forced to keep his opinion to himself.

"It's a sound plan," Aedion murmured softly to Aelin. "At least this way Lyria will be focused on our ports, and not immediately on the inland and mountains." Rowan nodded in agreement.

"He's right, you know," Rowan said quietly, gently taking Aelin's hand. "As long as she's watching the port cities, she won't be watching us here in Orynth."

"Despite that being true enough, that's not what I'm worried about right now," Aelin muttered unwillingly.

"Then what is it?" Aelin wasn't sure who this gentle question came from.

"It's what he was saying about Sam likely still being under Lyria's thrall," Aelin muttered hurriedly, seemingly determined to get it all out now that she had started. "What if Sam is still spying for her? What if he is still able to communicate with her somehow? What if merely keeping him locked in the dungeons isn't a good enough deterrent? What if he somehow manages to escape? With him here, so close, we're in more immediate danger than we were in before. What if, deep down, he wants me dead as much as _she_ does? What if—"

"I'm not sure you entirely understand how Lyria's magic works," Endymion interrupted gently. "I'm not a hundred percent sure on how it works either, but I'll give it my best shot."

"Then just hurry up and get on with it," Darrow growled. It was late and he was tired and cranky and just wanted to go to bed. "Just because _you_ are used to staying up all night long, doesn't mean that the rest of us are."

"As I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted," Endymion continued simply. "Lyria's connection with her human victims is strictly one way. She can telepathically communicate her thoughts and wishes – instructions if you may – with them from up to many miles away. But they are unable to communicate with her the same way. From what I understand, Sam is still locked in the dungeons, so the only way he'll be able to get any information to Lyria is if a guard is bribed to run messages south to Adarlan."

Rowan just stared at Endymion, still holding Aelin's hand. Too much. His cousin knew too much about Lyria's powers. Far too much for a supposedly casual observer. Powers that he hadn't even suspected existed. Powers like Lyria's weren't even meant to exist, not really. The closest thing to what Lyria could supposedly do was what Maeve had done. And it had turned out that Maeve wasn't even Fae. Was Lyria even Fae, or was she Valg like Maeve had been?

"Does Lyria's control over her human victims ever fade?" Aedion asked, speaking for the first time in minutes. Despite himself, the thought of what Lyria was doing to Sam, to Dorian made him feel positively sick.

"I wouldn't know," Endymion shook his head. "Her control over Sam might fade someday, but it would be incredibly hard for him to shake it off by himself. But what she's done to Dorian Haviliard – the marriage version of it, is significantly stronger, to the point where I highly doubt that would ever fade naturally. The connection would only break when one of them dies."

The meeting broke up shortly after that, and they all went their separate ways, most of them to bed.

Rowan, however, was still feeling disturbed by how much his cousin had known about Lyria's gifts, and said as much to Aelin as they walked slowly back to their suite.

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous," Aelin grumbled tiredly. "After Lyria supposedly died, you were stuck in Maeve's court for years. Endymion wasn't, he might very well have been able to pick something up then."

"No one could possibly pick up _that_ information from several different sources," Rowan retorted sharply. "Not even Enda."

"Nice to know that you have so much faith in me, cousin," someone sadly said behind them. Turning around, they saw Endymion standing there, looking crestfallen.

"Oh, is that the time already?" Aelin asked, glancing at the nearby clock in a mock-surprised fashion. "I'd better get off to bed now, goodnight!"

As Aelin began to hurry off, Rowan started to follow, but then Aelin stopped him dead in his tracks. "Not _you_," Aelin hissed at him. "I wasn't talking to _you_. In fact, I figure you'd better have a talk with your cousin, sooner rather than later."

"She's a smart young woman," Endymion smiled nostalgically as he watched the young queen hurry off. "I never did think that Lyria was the right woman for you. Aelin is."

"Get on with it," Rowan growled lightly. "You already know what I want to know. You already know what I _need_ to know."

"How I know so much about Lyria's powers and abilities, when you never even knew the same things about her?" Endymion probed carefully. He knew he was treading on thin ice.

When Rowan didn't reply, Endymion simply continued. "Because about a hundred and fifty years ago, a woman approached me in Doranelle. Fae. I didn't know who she was, but she knew all about me. And about you Rowan, you and Lyria. Like I said, I didn't know her, so I was rather surprised by all her questions about you. But after I'd known her for a couple of decades, I'd realised that there had been something familiar about her at that first meeting. It took another few decades for me to realise that the woman was in fact Lyria, but disguised somehow, hiding her true appearance, her true identity."

At this news Rowan started, staring in shock. "What…? How…?"

"I don't know," Endymion shook his head. "I have no idea how any of this came about. As far as I was able to tell, she somehow survived that ambush in the mountains, but suffered a miscarriage. After that, she became rather obsessive about winning you back, Rowan, assuming that you were kept away from her on Maeve's command only. She had no idea that you thought that she was dead. She became very delusional over the years. After you 'abandoned' her in her eyes, she became a very dangerous woman. I can only assume that finding out about your marriage to Aelin and the pregnancy tipped her over the edge into full-blow psychosis."

"Why did you never tell me any of this before now?" Rowan asked, sounding rather strangled.

"Because I didn't think you were ready to face it," Endymion said simply. "Because finding out the truth then would only have broken you more than you were already broken. You know what you were like then. Besides, I was afraid that if you knew the truth that you would go back to her. And Lyria never deserved you. Not in a million years. But I do wish that I had spoken before now. If I had, then maybe none of this would have been happening."

"Maybe, maybe not," Rowan said somewhat dismissively. "But it doesn't matter now that it's happening. We just have to deal with it – face it head on."

"If you really want to know, I have a _really_ good idea for getting information out of the boy in the dungeons," Endymion said slyly. "Seeing as Lyria doesn't yet know that he's been captured."

By the time Endymion was finished explaining his most recent idea, Rowan was laughing his head off hysterically.


	17. Chapter 17

**~17~**

Athril didn't know where his life had gone so desperately, so horribly wrong. He had been alive for longer than any other living being in Erilea, and yet no one had any stinking idea. He had lived for nearly three millennia now, making him one of the oldest living Fae in the world. But according to the stories, the myths and legends that both he and Brannon had created, he, Athril, had died millennia ago.

At first, the lies and deceptions had merely been to keep him safe from his beloved Maeve. Yes, Athril had once dearly loved Maeve, and it was the biggest regret of his life, considering what she had eventually become. At the time he had had no idea whatsoever that Maeve was queen of the Valg, not queen of the Fae. But even then, he had seen traces of those spider-like tendencies, the streak of cruelty that run as deeper than a well, writhing darkness within her, and just _knew_ that no matter how much he loved Maeve, he could not spend another moment with her. Despite his love for Maeve, Athril suddenly knew that he had to leave her. And the best chance of Maeve leaving him alone in peace lay in faking his own death.

And so, he and Brannon had devised a trap for Maeve when the three of them infiltrated the armies of the Valg, leading Maeve to believe that she had killed her own lover. It had been such a simple trap that Athril sometimes still had trouble believing that Maeve had fallen for it. After that, Athril had had no choice but to go into hiding, lending his assistance to Brannon, and more indirectly to Terrasen, wherever possible as spy and courier.

Despite everything, Athril had never minded the fact that everyone believed him to be dead in those early days. He had devoted himself to serving King Brannon and Terrasen. And when Brannon was on his deathbed, he had made Athril swear that he would watch over and protect his descendants. Athril had felt as though he had no choice but to agree, for he had never had a family of his own, and he had always loved Brannon's children and grandchildren as though they were his own.

But once Brannon's grandchildren had passed into the Afterworld, Athril had allowed his memory to fade away as well, as never had a close relationship with any of Brannon's other descendants until now, until Aelin. And so Athril's continued existence had eventually faded into nothing but myth and legend. In fact, Athril had been happy to let himself fade away into anonymity. What with Maeve being as dangerous as she was and not agreeing with world politics, Athril was finally willing to let everyone believe the rumours of his death. Besides, he was tired of being a spy, tired of being a double agent on occasion.

And then Adarlan had invaded Terrasen ten years ago, and Athril had felt the need to come out of hiding, felt the need to protect the kingdom his dearest friend had loved so fiercely. Before Athril had been able to step out of the shadows and make himself known to the world once more, the entire royal family of Terrasen – Brannon's last living descendants – had all been assassinated. He had grieved for Brannon, as his friend, knowing just how much his friend had loved his family and his kingdom, not knowing that young Princess Aelin – now Queen Aelin – still lived.

So Athril had remained in the shadows during the war and re-emerged only once Erawan and Maeve were dead and gone once and for all. And once the war was over and peace was declared, Athril had once again resumed his place in Terrasen's court as spy and double agent. For a while after the war had ended, it seemed as though there was no need for spies or double agents in this new world. At first he didn't care though, he'd been that glad to see a Galathynius restored to the throne of Terrasen, he had been willing to do almost anything to serve the Crown. Athril would have welcomed any position that had been offered to him.

After almost a year of boredom, Athril had finally been dispatched to Rifthold, Adarlan, to deal with the rising threat against his Queen and her consort. As this was his first time playing spy, playing double agent in so long, the case was of higher importance and much higher stakes than he had imagined or could have possibly predicted.

Athril had always considered spying to be like a game of chess, a game of strategy and tactics. At the time Athril had thought he had known what he was doing going into it, but ever since returning to Terrasen a fortnight ago he had realised that he had been in way over his head. Lyria had always held all the cards, even if she hadn't known it at the time. In a way Athril felt that Lyria was better had spying on people and manipulating them than he was, which was a fact that he bitterly hated.

Athril had only ever wanted to serve Terrasen's monarchy, to make himself indispensable to the royal family, to make them see why Brannon had placed so much faith in him, so much trust in him. Instead his actions could very well lead to the downfall of the last surviving members of Terrasen's royal family.

He had found himself to be a much worse spy than he had been three thousand years ago. A much worse double agent than he had been three thousand years ago. Athril didn't know how he would ever be able to look his queen in the face again, his shame was too great.

That day Athril had told Lyria that Aelin and Rowan were expecting their first child together, he had just been bluffing. He hadn't actually known that Aelin was pregnant, he had just been trying to get Lyria to show her hand, trying to attempt to get to her capitulate and stand down. He had had no idea that Lyria would retaliate like that, had had no idea that Sam was already so thoroughly under her control.

If Lyria had truly managed to gain the upper hand and managed to carry out her threats against Aelin and Rowan, it would be all his fault. Athril would have no one to blame but himself. He knew that no one blamed him for what had happened, but deep down he would never be able to forgive himself for the mistakes that he had made these last few months.

His actions had put Aelin and Rowan and their unborn child directly in harm's way. He had brought a traitor straight to Orynth, and had presented the traitor as a firm ally. A firm ally that he had 'saved' from the claws of the enemy. He had brought Sam Cortland directly to Orynth, believing that the compellability magic that Lyria had woven over him had broken. He had brought Sam right to Orynth, not knowing that it was exactly what Lyria and the boy had wanted, what they had needed in order to carry out the next steps of their plans.

Athril hadn't been able to believe the horror that he had felt that day in the throne room when he had realised that Aelin was indeed pregnant and Sam had been discovered as a traitor. He hadn't realised straight away that the spells Lyria had cast on Sam were still intact and in working order. No, to his greatest shame he'd thought that the years Sam had spent imprisoned had made him grow bitter and had warped his mind almost beyond repair.

The arrival of Endymion Whitethorn had court at changed that perception entirely, particularly when he had explained how Lyria's gift worked. He had been stupidly naïve when he had thought that simply removing Sam from Lyria's constant influence and presence would break the spells that Lyria had placed upon him. He had been dreadfully naïve to think that mere distance would be able to remove any lingering traces of Lyria's magic.

Yes, he was glad that Sam had been revealed as the traitor he was and imprisoned before he could pass any pertinent information to Lyria. He should he glad that that the brand of compellability magic Lyria used only created a one way bond when used on humans, he should be glad that Lyria still didn't know that Sam had been captured.

But he wasn't. Because it was all his damn fault. None of this would have happened if he hadn't been so damn soft hearted. He should have left Sam to Lyria's whims in Rifthold. But no, he had to be so dam soft hearted and just had had to feel sorry for him.

He should have known better than to let his emotions get the better of him during a mission. And in that moment Athril swore that if he ever received another mission, another spying job, he would not let his personal feelings get in the way of the job. He would remain professional at all costs. For he had let his emotions get in the way of doing the job this time, and look what it had gotten him. A lying, spying traitor who was more than willing to plunge a knife into his back, and had fallen in love with a witch. He didn't even know if Manon would even still want him after this debacle.

Athril must have been talking aloud to himself without realising it for he was surprised to hear a voice reply. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, Athril. Despite the divide between the species, witches are still women, and women are notoriously forgiving, especially when the people they love are involved," the voice said calmly.

"I must be dreaming," Athril muttered to himself, shaking his head as though to clear it. "I could have sworn that I just heard voices in my head. Brannon always did say hearing voices no one else could hear was a sure sign of madness."

"You're not dreaming, and you're not going mad," the voice said. "Open your eyes, Athril, and look around yourself for once and for all."

As slowly and hesitantly as possible, Athril opened his eyes. There, crouched before him, was Chaol Westfall. "There you are," Chaol said faux cheerfully. "Not so mad now, are you?"

"What are you doing here?" Athril questioned, trying not to let his anger show. He had come to this very spot to be alone after all. So he wouldn't have to interact with anyone. How dare this mortal man interrupt his peace and quiet? "How dare you—"

"How dare I interrupt your sullen ranting, your bitter sulk?" Chaol finished the question for Athril, making him snarl. "For your information, every single person in this palace is sick and tired of your gloomy and hostile behaviour. If you want to brood, that's fine by us, but at least have the decency to keep it to the confines of your suite, and not bother anyone else by it."

Athril just stared at Chaol in utter shock and disbelief. When was the last time someone had spoken to him so honestly and frankly? It must have been one of the witches on the trip northward, he thought in surprise. But when was the last time a human had spoken to him like this? For the life of him, Athril couldn't remember. He just stared at Chaol, wondering where he was going with this.

"Yes, you made an error of judgement when you brought Sam here with you," Chaol said calmly, though his voice was edged in bitterness. "But then again, a lot of people have made mistakes. I know I have. My biggest mistake was blindly serving the monster who called himself King of Adarlan, and his son Dorian for so long. And you don't see me beating myself up over it anymore – I accepted my mistakes and flaws and moved on with my life. Even Aelin has made mistakes in her life. So you've made one dreadful mistake about this. But continuing to beat yourself up like this isn't going to change anything. Be a man and attempt to fix this whole mess so Aelin won't have to live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder in fear. If you actually want to do something constructive, there's a meeting in the council chamber in half an hour to discuss our next steps."

At that, Chaol turned on his heel and walked off in silence. Athril just watched him go, wondering just where the man had gotten a personality transplant, then he wondered whether he was the one who needed the personality transplant.


	18. Chapter 18

**~18~**

Lorcan was pissed as hell. He didn't know how the hell he had gotten lumped with this job of spying on the spy, but he hated it. He supposed that this was to be his punishment for betraying Aelin to Maeve during the war. Hell, Lorcan didn't even know why everyone was still so pissed about it. They _knew_ that the only reason he had summoned Maeve to that spot was to protect his Elide. How the hell was he supposed to know that it was all a set up so that Maeve could kidnap Aelin out from under their noses?

Hence this latest task of his, to remind him that he was no longer the top dog, a reminder that he was now among the lowest of the low, as far as court rankings went. And as he had expected, he was hating every inch of the dungeon cell he was now currently occupying. Despised it, actually. He couldn't wait to get out of it as a matter of fact. Even one more hour down here would be too much for him. He just hoped that Elide would be able to get him out of here sooner rather than later, as Aelin trusted her far more than him.

At least the Cortland child had appeared somewhat surprised to see him be thrown into the cell next to his. Perhaps wringing as much information as possible out of him would be easier than everyone had thought it would be.

That was what he thought, at least, until the boy in the next cell started talking to him. "I'm not surprised that they put a monster like you down here with me," the boy said in an uncooperative and stubborn tone of voice. "What's your crime, existing?"

"Why on earth would existing be a crime?" Lorcan inquired, flummoxed. Why on earth didn't Elide or one of the guards come to spring him free? Hell, he'd even be glad to see gods-damned Aedion Ashryver right now, and the man hated his guts almost as much as his dearest cousin Queen Aelin did. And that was saying something.

"Because you're Fae," Cortland replied simply, as though that explained everything. "The crime of the Fae is simply to exist. If the Fae didn't exist, then the famine, draught and sickness wouldn't have swept through Erilea twelve years ago. Magic wouldn't have vanished then either. The Valg Wars wouldn't have happened. If the Fae didn't exist, my Aelin would still have been with me for the last four years. Aelin would still be my Celaena if not for you. She would never have willingly abandoned me for one of the Fae, she hates them as much as I do. I would never have lost her in the first place if not for the Fae. In my opinion all Fae should be killed on sight. Even the children."

A jolt of unexpected anger coursed through Lorcan. Clearly, the unintelligent little brat knew nothing about, well, anything. It was no wonder that Lyria had found it so easy to corrupt him. How on earth had he managed to survive by himself before that? But the boy had never truly been by himself, Lorcan reasoned, he'd bene raised by a monster that had faked his death for his own ends and had been held prisoner for years. The boy had probably only killed his way free of imprisonment just a few days before Lyria had gotten a hold of him.

"Child," Lorcan sighed tiredly. "You're wrong on just about every count there. Have you been incarcerated for so long that you no longer know the first thing about how the world works? Do you not know just how ridiculously stupid you just sounded? The way you were raving and ranting about Sam, Sam,_ Sam_, made it clear that the only person you care about is yourself. I doubt you even care about Aelin at this point. It's all just an obsession with you, isn't it? She jilted you, and you can't have that, can you? Everything has to be your way or no way at all."

"Of course I care about Aelin, or Celaena or whatever the hell she wants to call herself," Sam said, clearly offended. "It doesn't matter to me what she calls herself. It doesn't matter to me whether she's royalty. It never did. But she's still my Celaena and belongs with me, not some foreign born Fae bastard."

Lorcan sighed heavily. Nothing he said seemed to get through to the boy, but he decided to give it one last shot before he gave up for the moment. "You do realise that you're a foreigner here too? You're in Terrasen now, not Adarlan."

"So?" Sam demanded angrily. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Technically it makes you and I both foreign born bastards as well."

"Don't you _dare_," Sam growled furiously, "ever call me a bastard again. You do, and I'll make you pay. That's a direct threat."

"You have no idea who you're threatening here, boy," Lorcan laughed bitterly. "I'm not who you think I am."

"You're not who I think you are?" This time it was Sam who laughed. "You're dead wrong there. You're _exactly_ what I think you are – a dead beat, dead waste of space, Fae man who got himself caught doing something criminal. If you hadn't, you wouldn't have been thrown in these _stinking_ cells with me. You're nothing but a piece of filth. And if I don't punish you appropriately for your horrendous threats, then Lyria will definitely do it for me. She adores me, you know, but she is still only my second choice for wife. I'll only marry her if my Celaena doesn't take me back."

Lorcan gaped in disgust at the human boy wallowing in the next cell. Either he hadn't heard what Athril and the Thirteen had discussed on their journey north, or he had chosen to deliberately ignore it, or was completely delusional. Lorcan was willing to bet that it was the third option. He was more than willing to believe that Sam Cortland was completely delusional.

"Let me know when you come to your senses," Lorcan said sarcastically. "I'm sure there are plenty of people at the royal court who'd be glad to know that you're no longer a threat. And once you're doomed to be not a threat, you'll get out of this stupid cell just that bit sooner and regain your freedom."

"I do like the sound of freedom," Sam said dreamily. "For if I'm free again, I'll be able to send Lyria the information that she so desperately needs."

"You know," Lorcan said slyly, sensing that this may well be his in with the boy. That this may be his only chance to wrangle the information his queen so desperately wanted out of him. "If I'm let out of here before you, I can get that information to Lyria for you."

"I'll consider it," Sam snapped angrily. "But I highly doubt that I'll be telling you in any case. I don't trust you, and I doubt that you would even tell Lyria my news even if you swore you would. I may not trust Lyria because she's Fae, but I trust you even less than I do her. So you will do me the courtesy of considering your request."

Lorcan just scowled at the boy. Why was he making this so difficult for him? He didn't even want to be in this stupid, horrible, _stinking_ cell in the first place. And the longer it took Cortland to divulge whatever information he currently possessed, the longer he would be in this ghastly old dungeon. Why couldn't anything ever go the way he wanted it to? Why did he have to be the one who had to trick Cortland into speaking? Why did it have to be him?

Deep down, Lorcan knew the answer to his own questions. It had to be him, because Aelin had decided that he needed to be taken down a peg or two. And Rowan and Fenrys, who had both at one time, served under him in Maeve's court in Doranelle had decided that it would be a good idea to remind of his current place in Aelin's court. Remind him that he was currently ranked below them, when he was once at the top of the pecking order.

Not that he needed reminded. Lorcan was constantly aware of the fact that the only place he would ever have in this frozen court was beneath the people who should have been answering to him. It was an endless humiliation to be so constantly looked down upon by the snobbish, self-absorbed nobles of Aelin's court.

For the first time in five centuries Lorcan wished that he held the reigns of his own fate. For the first time in Lorcan's long life, he wished he controlled his own life. For the first time in five hundred years, Lorcan wished that he was truly free.

And in that moment, Lorcan decided that if he ever managed to wrangle whatever information he could from Cortland, and get out of this horrid dungeon cell, he would do whatever he could to convince Aelin to free him from the oaths he had made to her while under duress. In that moment, he just wanted a new life for himself, a fresh start for himself and his wife. A fresh start, and a desperately needed new, clean life, without being bound to any queen.

A new life for himself and his wife, without being bound to any monarch at all. It sounded like a promise of pure heaven to him in that moment.

* * *

Aelin almost groaned as she had to sit through yet another council meeting. It was not as though she didn't realise or understand the necessity of it, especially with Lyria still out there, and Sam Cortland still in the palace dungeons, still completely unwilling to cooperate.

She knew that she was not to blame for Sam's loyalty to Lyria, yet she could not help but feel that his unwillingness to talk reflected negatively on her. She was queen, yes, but as long as Lyria was still out there, and still dangerous, her position was not secure. Her unborn child's safety was not secure. But Aelin still knew that she would do whatever it took to keep her child, her precious baby safe. She knew Rowan would as well.

Yet Aelin knew full well what this meeting would centre around. Knew that there would be questions. Questions that she was growing tired of repeating the answers to. She knew that they would ask, yet again, why the decision had been made to send Lorcan into the dungeons to play spy. Knew that they would want to know why it had been decided to send Lorcan in as yet another prisoner, rather than have him pose as a guard or one of the rebel spies that Lyria was no doubt using to her advantage in whatever game she was playing.

Knew that they still wondered whether Lorcan was actually loyal, or if he was one of Lyria's conspirators. Knew, deep down, that many of them still considered Lorcan a security threat. A threat to her, to Rowan, Terrasen and the child that they were going to have.

"I have to admit, Majesty," Darrow said, a smug little smirk on his face, "that I was pleased to hear that Lorcan Salvaterre is currently residing in the palace dungeons. Many of us were appalled to learn of his betrayal of you during the war, and are pleased to learn that he is finally getting his comeuppance."

"I admit that I agreed with Endymion when he said that he thought Lorcan was becoming a bit too full of himself when he suggested that it would be a good idea to put him in the dungeon cells with Cortland, in order to get him to open up and spill his secrets," Aedion said. "In order to take Lorcan down a peg or two, as well."

"But why place him in the cells as a prisoner?" another councillor enquired. "Surely merely having Salvaterre posted on guard duty would work just as well."

"I'm afraid I don't agree with that reasoning," Endymion said calmly. "From what I understand, the young man has spent the last several years has a prisoner, even before being ensnared in Lyria's net. So he would be used to not being able to trust his guards."

"Besides, being so closely ensnared by Lyria's magic, and working so closely with her may very well have made him more sympathetic to a demi-Fae prisoner than he would be to a human one," Aelin said quietly but firmly. Despite the more positive response than she had expected, Aelin felt that she had to get her side of the story out in the public eye before Lorcan was released from the dungeons in a few days and undermined her decisions while in a rage.

"I can't say I fault your reasoning," Darrow continued thoughtfully, "but I can't help but wonder how young Elide Lochan will react when she discovers that you have placed her husband in the cells – even just for a few days – in order to simply play spy."

"We discussed the matter with Elide beforehand, and she agreed that our plan was a sound one," Aelin said as calmly as possible. Despite her best efforts at diplomacy today, she was starting to become rather irritated. Being so far along in her pregnancy whilst attempting to rule her kingdom to the best of her ability was rather exhausting to say the least.

"The _we_ in question being…"

"Aedion, Rowan, Lysandra, Fenrys, Chaol and myself," Aelin clarified at Darrow's request.

"And Athril? Where does he stand on this matter?"

"Athril…" Aelin broke off uncomfortably. "Athril is still struggling to come to terms with everything. He continues to blame himself for bringing a spy, a traitor if you will, into Orynth. We have all attempted to discuss it with him on various occasions, convince him that none of it was his fault. Persuade him that he got played as badly as the rest of us, and that everyone makes mistakes on occasion. All to no avail, I'm afraid, and I don't know how else to help him. How else to assure him that I do not lay the blame at his feet."

Darrow simply nodded at that, feeling a bit more at ease at those comments, resting assured that Aelin, at the very least, was continuing to listen to the advice of those around her. Glad that she was attempting to comfort and reassure Athril, and was trying to help him through this, and not just lay the blame at his feet. Respectful of the ruler that she had become and was still growing into.

* * *

Back down in the dungeons, Lorcan was still gnashing his teeth in silent fury. It had taken less than four hours after that initial conversation between him and Cortland for the boy to start spilling his guts worth of information.

And instead of just going straight to Aelin with it, he still had to languish down in these cells – nothing more than a pathetic puppy dog waiting to be summoned.

Then there was the information that he had just learned. Information that couldn't just _wait_. The council had to be summoned, had to be told of the threats.

For Lyria simply _wasn't_ waiting to hear news from Cortland, wasn't just using Dorian like some ill-fitting puppet-glove. She was amassing Adarlan's forces to once again march upon Terrasen. Not hearing from Cortland was just the excuse she was going to use in order to declare war.

A war between Adarlan and Terrasen that would be every bit as deadly, every bit as devastating, as the last Valg war that had ended just barely a year previously.

And now that he had finally wrangled the information out of Cortland, Lorcan couldn't wait to be let out of the dungeon, and could not wait to start his new life away from Terrasen with his wife at his side.


	19. Chapter 19

**~19~**

Lyria scowled at the men gathered before her in distaste. Human men were all so much the same, so selfish and puffed up with their own sense of self-importance, the arrogance and vanity, so constantly jockeying for power. Not that they knew what real power was. Yo_u wouldn't know what real power was unless you were born Fae,_ Lyria thought bitterly. But enough of that. She had a job to do.

For Lyria had not heard from Sam Cortland since Athril had 'rescued' him, either not knowing or caring that her hold over him was too strong, that he would almost certainly die from shock if she ever released him. Not that she would, he was far too valuable to her alive. But what concerned her was that she hadn't seen or heard from him since Athril had taken him. Not a single whisper. And that frightened her more than she could possibly say; for despite herself, Lyria had truly grown to care for him, more than she cared for the man she had married in name only for the sake of her revenge.

From the latest report that Lyria's spies had given her, Athril had fled north to Terrasen, with a witch coven and Sam in tow. Just the thought of Athril fleeing made Lyria smile broadly. She had hated Athril soundly from the moment he had first brought the news that her Rowan's little queen bitch was expecting his child and the thought of him running away out of fear, brought her a round a savage pleasure.

But it was the fact that Sam had yet to make contact with her that scared Lyria the most. Resourceful as the child had to be, he should have been able to find a messenger with whom to entrust a letter. By now he should have been in the north long enough to gather a sufficient amount of information to actually send a letter.

The very fact that he hadn't, '_frightened'_ her desperately. It had made her worry that something had gone wrong with the plans she had created. Had something happened to Sam? Had something happened that prevented him from sending a letter? Had he been captured? Or tortured? Or had they merely imprisoned him again?

If Athril and that witch coven had imprisoned him after reaching the royal court of Terrasen, or worse, if Rowan and that bitch-queen had ordered the imprisonment, then Lyria would never be able to forgive them nor forget. She hated them all. Hated them more than words could ever possibly say.

Which led her to the choice she had just made, the human men gathered before her. Declaring war like this did not scare her. She was not afraid of losing a few human men in battle. Why would she be? They were only human, after all. It would have been different if they were Fae. It was a shame to lose Fae lives during war, but not human lives. After all, humans mattered very little.

No, a full-blown war just to ensure the safety of one informant, a full-blown war to ensure the continued safety of her mate, and to bring her beloved mate back to the loving embrace of her arms did not scare Lyria one bit. Quite the opposite actually. In fact, Lyria did not know why she hadn't thought of open war as a possibility earlier, as all her other plans had taken far too long to come to fruition.

"You know your orders," Lyria told the men assembled before her, speaking simply and quietly, but not without authority. A dozen or so of the most important, most powerful nobles in Adarlan. Among them was Lord Davis Westfall, father of Lord Chaol Westfall, who had defected to Terrasen a couple of months back. "Return to your homes, raise your men and your armies, and then return here to Rifthold. Once fully assembled, we'll finally be able to march North on Terrasen."

"But what offence has Terrasen given to warrant raising such a force to march on them? What offence have they given that requires a declaration of war?" Lord Davis Westfall queried, voicing aloud what many of the other men were thinking. "To declare war, to openly march open an enemy, without defiance sent, without being given offence—"

"Do you not want to punish your son for openly abandoning his country, the king he was destined to serve, for a foreign queen?" Lyria hissed at him slyly, smirking as the others started in shock. "Do you not want to teach him his place? To show him that such treachery will no longer be permitted? To show him that it will no longer be permitted for an Adarlanian to serve a foreigner?"

"One could also say the say about us serving a foreigner," Lord Davis smoothly countered. "For you are as far from an Adarlanian as it comes. And as far as the old statutes, left over from the reign of King Dorian's father, it is still legally a crime for an Adarlanian to either serve or obey the orders of one of the Fae."

For the first time in weeks, Lyria stared at a man in shock. She had had no idea that such a law existed in this horrible, ghastly old backwards kingdom. How had no one ever mentioned it to her before?

But at the same time, it explained so much. It explained why, when she had first encountered Sam at the abandoned Assassin's Guild, just after he had fought his way free, he had been so distrustful of her. Why she had had to use her compellability on Sam, cast spell after spell on him, just to get him to agree to help her. Explained the fear she still so regularly encountered in the streets of the ghastly city, the people's unjustifiable, unwarrantable hatred toward her. A hatred that could not be forgiven nor pardoned, no matter the reasons.

"So it would appear that my son and daughter-in-law did the proper thing," Lord Davis continued, "in leaving Adarlan for freedom in Terrasen, before they could be sucked into your horrific schemes. Before being forced to wage a war they do not agree with."

"And that is your professional opinion, is it not?" Lyria said flatly. "That you do not believe that we should fight for our freedom, fight the oppression that living in subordinance to Terrasen will surely bring?"

"Yes it is," Lord Davis said calmly, "for we are already free. We are not subordinate to Terrasen, for we are a completely separate kingdom. And over the years, Adarlan has always been the oppressor, not Terrasen. It is time for us to become better than our forebears. To once again become the ideal Gavin Haviliard wished for Adarlan to be. A place where honourable men serve honourable rulers and are rewarded for their years of loyal service."

"King Dorian," Lyria said smoothly, turning to the man standing still as a statue beside her. "You know how little tolerance we have for the questioning of our underlings. Deal with this man now."

"With pleasure," Dorian smiled, a cold little smile, drawing his sword. With one smooth blow, Lord Davis Westfall's head bounced vulgarly on the floor of the throne room.

"Let that be a warning to you all," Lyria intoned soundlessly, emotionlessly, before striding out of the room. As the doors slammed shut behind her, Lyria smirked to herself. Unbeknown to the gathered Adarlanian lords, she truly didn't give a rat's arse about Sam Cortland. He was just a passport to her now. His silence just a ticket to be able to freely declare war. Cortland knew that just as well as she did. His silence was surely nothing if not intentional.

No, if Lyria made any appearance of actually caring about Sam Cortland, it was all just for show. All just an act. And Lyria was nothing if not a good actress. Even without using her compellability magic on someone of Fae heritage, Lyria was just about able to convince anyone of just about anything she wanted to.

Well, just about anyone. Lyria scowled at the thought of the one male who was able to see through her deceptions. The one male, who time and time again, had been able to slip through her nets and escape her. The male who proved to be a constant thorn in her side, even as she had used him for information. Endymion Whitethorn.

At the thought of the male, at the thought of the letter she had received from her informant only that morning, she scowled with hatred at the thought that he had been able to, yet again, slip through her nets and evade her.

How had he known that she would be looking for him as he crossed the ocean, as he came to the _aid_ of his cousin and his wife? Was it possible, as her informant thought, that he had reached Terrasen before she had sent her spy to end his life as quickly and quietly as possible, without being detected?

No, it was not possible. It just had to be impossible. Because in all two hundred years that she had been using Endymion as an unwitting pawn in her quest for information on Rowan, he had never once been able to figure out who she truly was. She had disguised herself far too well. In fact, Lyria had disguised herself so well that he had never so much as asked a single question of her. Not once. Ever.

So how was it possible for him to have escaped the certain death that she had planned for him? She had intended to have him murdered during his long ocean voyage, and have it look like natural causes. But he had somehow escaped the noose – literally. He hadn't even been on the ship in question.

The question now was, how had he done it? Had it all been a ruse on his part? To keep her looking at the oceans, keep her looking at Terrasen's ports, rather than the interior? Had he arrived in Terrasen earlier than she had expected? Or was he still holed up in Doranelle? She doubted it, somehow. Endymion was never the type to sit back and watch events unfold, especially when the people he loved were in danger.

Right now, she had far too many questions, and not enough answers. And Lyria didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit. In fact, truth be told, she hated it. Lyria was a true puppeteer in many ways, and she truly hated not being the one in charge. And until now, Lyria had truly believed that she had been in charge from the moment she had decided upon her course for revenge. And she hated that the other players in the game were fighting back, so determined to keep her from the revenge she had so desperately sought for so very long.

And Lyria couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand the fact that the very people she hated so desperately could stand in the way of her getting what she wanted. How dare they keep her from getting what she wanted? How dare they prevent her from getting the vengeance she felt she was owed? How dare they hold her back, prevent her from achieving her ambitions? How dare they thwart her desires, when she was owed so much? The gods owed her. The Wyrd owed her. This entire damned universe owed her. But did anyone besides herself care about that at all? No, they did not. All they ever cared about were their own selfish desires.

And in that moment, Lyria swore to herself that once she had gotten her revenge on Terrasen's supposedly fire-breathing bitch of a queen, and her precious Rowan was back in her arms, she would kill anyone and everyone who had stood in her way.

Endymion Whitethorn would be at the very top of her _to be killed_ list. The only person above Rowan's beloved cousin, would be his beloved, Aelin Galathynius herself. Then Athril. And after Athril came the entirety of the witch coven that had helped Athril slip through her grasp. After the witch coven came Rowan's little fighting unit, his closest companions – Fenrys and Gavriel, and Lorcan, and Aedion Ashryver.

And after Aedion Ashryver was killed, then it would be time for any member of the fire-breathing bitch's court who stood beside the bitch. Who stood against Lyria. And finally, Lyria would kill her two most loyal allies in her game, the ones who were only loyal to her thanks to the spells that she had cast. The last people she would kill – the very last – Sam Cortland and Dorian Havilliard.

Perhaps Lyria would get lucky and some of them would be killed in the war that she was about to launch, but if not, she had her own plans in place for when the time came. For the first time that day, Lyria smiled to herself. She _liked_ this plan.

Yes, Lyria liked this plan very much. If none of her covert plans had worked so far, then perhaps open war between Adarlan and Terrasen would be the plan that worked for her. This making a slow game of her revenge wasn't working, and it was far past time to amp it up. Besides, she was _tired_ of taking things slowly. Of making plans that slowly came to fruition, if they ever did.

Yes, open war between the two kingdoms would surely speed Lyria's plans up. Once forces from the two nations began to lose themselves in the battle-lust, it would be far easier for her to be able to work unseen. And the benefit of being able to work sight unseen, would be that no one would know who was slaughtering members of the royal court. And that would no doubt sow all kinds of panic and fear. And a panicking, terrified people would a people that Lyria would be able to, no doubt, use to her advantage – even if she currently didn't know how.

Lyria was growing impatient. The time to strike was now, while the iron was hot. Lyria smirked to herself, already imagining the immense satisfaction she would surely feel when Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, was dead and gone.

But even that satisfaction was nothing when compared to what her beloved mate Rowan would feel when he discovered that the bitch queen had so thoroughly ensnared him that she had taken away his choices, his free will, his ability to decide for himself. And once Rowan found out, he would no doubt gut her himself.

The satisfaction she would feel would be nothing in comparison to the satisfaction of the people of Terrasen when they realised that they no longer had to have her for their queen. That there were other choices for their monarch. The satisfaction that they would feel when they realised that they would no longer have to kneel to the bitch they were forced to call a queen.

The damned fire magic wielding bitch deserved everything that was coming to her. You didn't steal another female's mate and get away with it. You just didn't commit the single most unpardonable crime in the Fae world and expect to be able to get away with the consequences.


	20. Chapter 20

**~20~**

Uproar filled the palace and city of Orynth once the news of Adarlan's forces marching north broke, but the palace council chambers remained oddly quiet. Subdued. Not out of anger at the news, not out of the shocked outrage that had spread over the city at the news, but the killing calm that had spread through the veins of so many of the elite warriors of the court at the news. At the threat implied to their queen and her consort.

"I don't know if I understand why Lyria deems it necessary to declare war," Darrow said softly, as they studied the maps spread over the large table in the council chamber. "I can't see it being worth her while to raise an army just to rescue a single spy that she hasn't heard hide nor hair from."

"That's because this is not about Sam Cortland," Chaol said almost soundlessly. "Not hearing from Cortland, that's just the excuse she's using in order to declare war. She doesn't truly care about him."

"Then what on earth is she raising Adarlan's army for?" Lord Sloane snapped impatiently, "if she's not going to declare war after all?"

"Because Lyria does truly mean to declare war on Terrasen," Chaol explained, irritated. No matter the kingdom, the fusty old doddery councillors were all the same. "Just not for the reasons she's claiming. She doesn't care about Sam Cortland. But she does want revenge on Rowan and Aelin for being happy whole she was so desperately unhappy."

"So the bitch is only doing this so she can get revenge," Darrow sighed. "So she can carry her death threats against their majesties through to completion."

"Exactly," Chaol nodded. "We've known for months now that Lyria wants Rowan and Aelin dead. But none of us ever thought that it would come to war. Especially not with such a feeble excuse in place. Lyria must be even crazier than any of ever thought possible."

"Lyria is more than just crazy," Endymion said bitterly. "She is clinically insane – the last two hundred years of 'abandonment' have warped her mind. At this point, Lyria is presumably as mad as Maeve was during the war. And you all know how that turned out for us."

There was a few minutes' of silence as memories of the recent Valg war pressed upon them, the grief and pain they all still felt reverberated through their bones. The siege Orynth had outlasted was still quite fresh in the minds of their army and the minds of the citizens of Orynth. No one was likely to forget the horrors that the war had brought, the horrors that had been inflicted upon the ordinary citizens of Terrasen just as much had it had wrought unimaginable nightmares upon its warriors and nobility.

What sort of horrors would this war bring upon the kingdom, Lyria's war of revenge? What horrors would occur before it was over? None of them knew. None of them even wanted to imagine it.

The silence started to stretch on too long, and Chaol shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He'd spotted several of them looking at him, pity in their gazes. He knew something was wrong. He knew that whatever was going on also had something to do with him. He just wished that they would stop beating around the bush and tell him. Honestly, Chaol didn't know how much longer he could handle the suspense.

"I know there's something that you aren't telling me," Chaol said, directing his gaze toward Rowan and Aedion. He doubted that Aelin knew what was being kept from him, for she was now looking at them in slight confusion. Besides, Aelin was his friend. She had always struggled to keep vital information from him in the past. "I would appreciate it if you didn't keep information from me right now. Especially when it may prove useful in whatever conflict that is approaching."

"I didn't want to have to tell you like this," Aedion said, slumping over in his chair. "But you have a right to know. When Lyria assembled Adarlan's lords in Rifthold to order them to assemble whatever forces they have, your father was among them."

"That doesn't entirely surprise me," Chaol shrugged. "My father has always been a bastard of the finest calibre. If you put Adarlan's crown on a sheep and named the sheep King of Adarlan, well, in that case he would probably consider himself duty bound to serve and obey the sheep's every command."

A ripple of laughter filled the room, none of them laughing louder than Aelin. She'd hated Chaol's father with a passion for years, for the poor way he had treated Chaol after he had abdicated his title of Lord of Anielle and joined the Royal Guard. Had hated the man for allowing Chaol to believe that his mother and younger brother had never written him a single letter. For making him believe that they had disowned him as thoroughly as his father had.

"All right, that's enough," Aedion said, the laughter dying down almost immediately. "While we can still enjoy a good laugh every now and then, I'm not finished yet." Looking at Chaol with pity and sympathy in his eyes, Aedion forced himself to continue. "According to our source, your father started questioning Lyria's methodology. There's no easy way to say this, but Lyria had Dorian kill your father for it."

"When did you find out this?" Chaol asked, eyes boring into Aedion's as he ignored the various lords and councillors as they quickly began to gather their belongings and file out of the room. Just how many of them had known about his father's death and hadn't told him? How long ago had they found out? Gods, Aedion had _known_ all along, perhaps for days now, and hadn't even _thought_ to tell him. Just how long had they been planning to keep him in the dark for?

"I only found out a couple of days ago," Aedion said, sighing. Having only lost his father during the Siege of Orynth, just after having had accepted the male as his father, Aedion knew exactly what Chaol was feeling.

Aelin knew what Chaol was enduring at the loss of his father, as well.

"And naturally, you did not think to tell him before now," Aelin said softly, grief filling her face as she took Chaol's hand. "Naturally your first instinct was to tell my friend that his father had died during a packed emergency council meeting."

"I realise I should have gone about this differently," Aedion said sadly as he took in the comforting arm his cousin had wrapped around her dearest friend. "But I guess I just didn't know how to tell you, Chaol. You can call me coward all you want over this, and you would be right. Just know that I will have to carry the burden of that cowardice for the rest of my life, and that we have a war to win first."

From the look on his face, Aedion knew that Chaol did not blame him for not telling him sooner – not really. It was the shock speaking. One look at his cousin's face, and he knew that Aelin still blamed him. Still believed that he should have told Chaol privately earlier. Aedion didn't know what sort of person it made him.

* * *

"My father was a bad man," Chaol said quietly that night in the palace suite that his family had been granted upon their arrival in Terrasen. "But does the fact that I don't grieve for him also make me a bad person? When I think of him, what he did to me, I just feel… nothing. I always have felt nothing when it comes to him. I don't know what that makes of me."

"I think it makes you human," Yrene said just as quietly as she rocked their infant daughter in her arms. "But I think this means that we need to be more careful than ever in regards to contacting your mother and brother."

"Mother and Terrin would probably be quite understanding about why we felt we had to leave Dorian's service for Aelin's. Leave Adarlan for Terrasen," Chaol said weakly, sinking down onto the lounge beside his wife. "But Mother would not be so understanding about why we just left my father there to his fate. Despite everything she has endured at his hands, she still loves him. Still adores him with the passion of a schoolgirl, though the gods only know why."

"I suppose love can be rather stupid as well as blind at times," Yrene said as she carefully passed their daughter into Chaol's arms.

Chaol instantly smiled at the small baby he held. No matter what was happening in his life, his small daughter always a put smile on his face. The baby cooed and giggled as he made funny faces at her. "No sleepy time for you today, sweet Charlotte, huh?"

"No matter what I try, Charlotte just won't go to sleep," Yrene bemoaned. "It's almost as though she understands something big is going on. Or maybe she knows her daddy needs one of her cuddles."

"No matter what is going on in my life, Charlotte is always able to cheer me up," Chaol murmured, cuddling the baby closer. "Maybe it's just because she's too little to understand why I'm so worked up about everything. Or maybe she's just at the age where all she knows is to make people happy."

"Maybe it's just because she simply loves her parents the why your mother still loves your father," Yrene said murmured gently, wrapping an arm around Chaol's waist. "Do you really feel so little in regards to your father?"

Chaol sighed before looking at her. "I hate to say it, but I just feel nothing when it comes to my father," he muttered. "I never have felt much when it comes to him. I used to hate him for what he had put me through when I was younger. But even that hatred has long since faded away to indifference. I just wish that Aedion had broken the news differently. That he had told me in private. I found Aedion publically telling my father had been murdered by my oldest friend just felt discomfiting. All I felt was self conscious. Awkward. Right now, I just don't know what to do with it all. I guess I just need some time to process it all."

Yrene sighed to herself. It didn't matter whether or not he was ready to admit it or not, but she was positive that Chaol still had some lingering feelings of hated for his father. Why else would he care so much about Aedion telling him in public?

Love or loath his father, when Chaol sorted out his feelings toward him, Yrene would be there for him no matter what.

* * *

Aedion groaned to himself as Aelin glared at him from across the room. He knew that she was pissed off about him breaking the news of Chaol's father's death the way he had. At the same time though, Aedion knew that that wasn't what Aelin was really pissed about. Deep down, Aedion knew that Aelin was just pissed off that none of his spies had managed to find and capture Lyria long before she had taken it this far and was taking it out on him.

And in all honesty, Aedion couldn't blame her, nor Rowan, for being so angry at the situation. After all, if the situation had been reversed and it was his life on the line, along with the lives of his wife/mate and their unborn child… Aedion would probably have slaughtered anyone and everyone who had stood in the way of him _killing_ whoever the hell it was behind the threats. Probably would have done it long before now. In a way, Aedion had to greatly admire Aelin's restraint the last few months, considering the constant stress and strain she had to be under.

"I know you're angry right now, Aelin," Aedion said as calmly as possible, though his temper was starting to fray. "But you have to understand that—"

"I have to understand what?" Aelin snapped back. "That your first instinct was to announce to a friend that his father was murdered by his oldest friend? You yourself admitted that you had known for days before you told anyone. You could, at least, have told Chaol earlier. Told him _privately!_ It doesn't matter how little Chaol felt about his father! He was still his _father!_"

"I know," Aedion said, growing more and more frazzled. "And I swear, I was going to tell Chaol about it after the meeting, but he had me backed into the corner. And you know that as well as I do."

"I don't know _what_ I know anymore," Aelin hissed back. "I've been living in fear for months now! _Months_, Aedion! Do you know what constantly having to look over your shoulder, wondering if the next person you see is a double agent, if they're going slit your throat, _does_ to a person? For months, now. I _can't_ live like this for much longer, I _just_ can't."

"And you shouldn't have to," Aedion said, shoulders sagging. "I assure you, though, that we've been doing everything we can to capture Lyria before she got this far. But she seems to have a gift for evasion, as well as making humans do whatever she wants them to. Every time one of our people manages to come close to it, she disappears again. Every SINGLE time. It's maddening."

"Easy for _you_ to say," Aelin muttered bitterly. "It's not your life on the line here. Not the lives of _your_ family."

"That's _enough_, Aelin," Aedion suddenly snapped. "You are my family. Your parents and Great Uncle were my family. Gavriel was my family. And I lost them all. Was as heartbroken as you were to lose them. So don't you go around pretending that I don't understand what you are going through. Because I do. You and that precious baby of yours are the only family I have left. And I cannot bear the thought of losing you. Or Rowan. As much as I hate to admit it, the bastard has come to mean as much to me as you do."

Aelin slowly sank to her knees, letting the tears fall for the first time in months. She hadn't cried once, despite the pressure she was under and the constant fear. But Aedion's words had just struck home in a way nothing else had. All this time, she had thought only of the fear she felt for herself, her child and for Rowan. She hadn't once thought of the fear Aedion was feeling. How scared he would have been of losing her. And every word he said was true – she, Aelin, and the child she carried, _were_ his only surviving blood relatives. And Aedion himself was as scared as she was for the fate of her family.


	21. Chapter 21

**~21~**

Athril wasn't sure why he was still hiding from everyone, especially when there was currently an emergency war council that he could have been a part of. Should have been a part of. He knew that people would be beginning to ask where he was by now, but at the same time he couldn't care less.

He still didn't know how to forgive himself, how to face his queen, knowing what the consequences of his actions were. If he hadn't insisted on bringing Sam Cortland to Rifthold with him and the Thirteen, hadn't made sure that he had been placed in the dungeon cells after it had been made clear that he was a traitor, then Terrasen wouldn't be facing war so soon after the last one. Especially while they were still rebuilding what had been destroyed.

Athril had heard what Chaol Westfall had told him about not blaming oneself for the mistakes you made and moving on, but Athril couldn't bring himself to forgive himself. He still very much blamed himself for his mistakes. He should have seen better, known better.

Athril didn't see it himself, but he was not the only one to blame for bringing Sam to Orynth. But he was the only one who was blaming himself. The only one who hated himself for it and was refusing to leave his palace suite of rooms.

Despite, or perhaps because of his desperate sulking streak, Athril was the only one who was not willing to see that _life_ stood outside the palace, in the city. Unable or unwilling to see that the citizens of Terrasen adored their queen and were more than willing to fight for her. They were willing to fight for her, even if he was not.

"Still sulking about, I see," a voice said as someone entered the suite. "Talk about pathetic. I thought you were more of a man than this. I thought you were stronger than this."

Athril looked up from where he was lying on the bed, groaned, and then looked away again. It was though the sight of the white-haired witch queen gave him physical pain to add to the mental pain he was enduring.

And in a way, that was true. Seeing Manon just brought back the memories he was trying to suppress. Of the shame he was struggling to forget.

"For such a illustrious warrior spy of legend, sulking this is worse than contemptible. In fact, it's downright laughable," Manon mused aloud. "What must the celebrated Brannon Galathynius think of you now? What must he think of the way you failed his last living descendant, his kingdom?"

Athril just grunted again and attempted to shield his eyes from the light leaking in from the open doorway. After spending so long in the pitch black had wrecked his eyesight. Manon had also struck upon the one thing that kept him from killing himself right now. He was far too ashamed to be able to face Aelin in this life, and was far, far too ashamed to face Brannon in the Afterlife.

"Ashamed, are we?" Manon purred silkily. "Too ashamed to face your queen? Too ashamed to even attempt to atone for a sin that my entire coven _also_ made? A sin we committed in order for you to be able to bring the Cortland boy North, a journey that went much quicker due to the fact that you were flying on wyverns?"

At that, Athril stopped his groaning and grunting. He had been so completely self-absorbed that he had entirely forgotten that Manon Blackbeak and the Thirteen had been the ones to transport Sam Cortland and himself northward. If it weren't for them, the journey north would have taken far longer that it had.

And in that moment, Athril had to wonder that if it had been just him and Cortland traveling by themselves, would Cortland had made it clear that he was a traitor before they reached Orynth? If that had happened, Athril would have had the time to take the proper precautions before they made it so far.

"I made the same mistake you did, Athril," Manon said a bit more gently. "I, like you, trusted Sam Cortland. I took him at face value, and did not even attempt to look beneath the surface. Yet, _I_ am not beating myself up over it. None of the Thirteen are. So why are you? Why can you not forgive yourself?"

Athril merely looked away, unable to explain himself, even to himself. "I always knew that Crochan do-gooder nonsense would rub off on you, Manon," he muttered unwillingly. He didn't deserve sympathy. He didn't deserve to have anyone in his life, least of all someone as wonderful as Manon.

"I don't deserve you, Manon," Athril muttered, still not looking at Manon. "I don't deserve happiness, not after what I did."

"For gods' sake, Athril!" Manon snapped impatiently, finally losing her temper. "All you're thinking about is yourself! What about what _I_ want? What about what _I _deserve? Have you thought about that at all during your moping and sulking? No! Have you thought once about your Queen, who is living in fear for her life? No! You have not! Because all you have thought about, all you have bothered thinking about, is yourself! Have you thought once about the army that is about to march on us, the lives that will be lost? No, you have not! Talk about selfish! Right now, I don't think I can be with someone who is as self-absorbed as you are. I can't be with someone who doesn't put me first. I cannot be with someone who doesn't see me as a priority, someone who doesn't love me the way I love them."

At that, Athril finally looked up in shock. Never before had Manon said that she loved him. Never before had she implied that she loved him the way he loved her. He had been in love with her for months now, but had never dared to openly admit his feelings. The closest he had come had been that last day in Oakwald forest, the day before Sam had been ousted as a traitor. In the aftermath of what had happened, Athril had almost forgotten the hope he had felt in that moment. But hearing Manon's implication that she loved him, brought it all rushing back.

"Does that mean… Are you saying… You love me?" Athril whispered, starting to go into shock. "You love me the same way I love you? Forever and always?"

"For heaven's sake, Athril, be a man for once. Be the old you. The Athril I know you can be," Manon snapped, growing more impatient by the minute. "Besides, I never said that I love you. Just that I can't be with someone who doesn't love me. I've already been there once already, with Dorian. He didn't love me. With Dorian, it was more about ownership. And I don't think you love me either, right now, judging by the way you are acting."

Athril felt his heart plummet in that moment. He should never have told Manon let he loved her, should never have let himself be so vulnerable.

"I wouldn't worry about something so trivial as _feelings_ right now," Manon went on mercilessly, not a single hint of affection in her voice. "Her Majesty wishes to see you privately."

Aelin. To officially meet her for once and for all. After all that he had done… After all that had happened… The mistakes that he had made… Athril felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of seeing her.

"I can't," Athril forced the words out, feeling as though he were choking on them. "After everything that's happened, after failing the way I have, I just can't. I can't face her. Not now, not ever."

"We've been in Orynth for nearly a month," Manon said in a monotone. "And apart from that first day where the boy was revealed to be a traitor, you haven't had a single audience with the Queen you claim to serve and obey. You can't put it off forever, Athril. The longer you do, the worse – the harder – it will be for you."

"You don't understand, Manon!" Athril yelled – shouted at her, really. Athril was even more ashamed of himself than he was in that moment. He had never shouted at a woman before in his life. "You have no idea of the sort of mental anguish that I'm going through. And I can't bear to face her. Not now, not ever. I don't care if you call me coward for it. I don't care about _any_ of it. Not anymore."

"So you would rather be a self-acknowledged coward for all of eternity?" Manon said, a hint of shock in her tone for the first time. She hadn't realised that Athril's sense of self-loathing ran so deep. If she had, she would surely have checked in on him far sooner. She had thought that Athril would have gotten over it by now. Instead, she had allowed him to wallow, which may very well have been an extremely bad idea.

"Yes, I would," Athril murmured, moving his gaze back toward the window. "I just can't stand living anymore, but I'm too cowardly too end my own life."

"I hadn't realised that your mental health had gotten so bad," Manon said quietly to herself. "I was hoping that it wouldn't come to this, but it's time for you to meet your Queen."

The words must have been some sort of code that Athril didn't understand, couldn't understand, as the door to his suite was suddenly broken down by Asterin and Vesta. Athril sat bolt upright in shock at the sight of the two witches he had not seen in weeks now.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Athril snapped, shocked out of his mind. "Why can't any of you just leave me alone, the way I want you to be left alone?"

"You've been left alone for too long," Vesta said, stony faced, stony voiced. "If you are left alone any longer, you're likely to do something stupid. Beyond stupid."

"What do you care what I do," Athril grumbled loudly. "You have made it perfectly clear that you never liked me."

"I _don't_ like you," Vesta snapped angrily as she stomped forward. "I never have. But at the very least, you're slightly more tolerable than the Adarlanian King. But as I'm sure you already know, orders are orders."

Asterin smirked at him, a smirk that was tinged with a sense of menace. Menace and loss. "Unfortunately for you, we have our orders. And we don't exactly care what you want anymore, not after you've spent the majority of the last month doing nothing but think about yourself."

Athril was about to protest but before he could so much as open his mouth, the two witches had stalked forward and yanked him harshly off his bed.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Athril snarled as the witches began to drag him across the suite and then through the palace corridors.

"Aelin wishes to see you, Athril," Asterin snapped at him. All of the Thirteen were out of patience with Athril. In fact, many of them had only put up with him so long for Manon's sake alone. But patience was certainly thin on the ground. "So you are going to see her. We're taking you to where you've been summoned to see her."

"Don't my wishes count for anything in this?" Athril inquired, more than a hint of bitterness in his tone. He was certainly growing tired of having his wishes and wants ignored. Right now, Athril wanted these witches to leave him alone for once and for all.

"No." Vesta grunted. "Everyone in this entire damned palace is getting quite fed up of your sulking. It's been making everyone miserable."

"I haven't been that bad!" Athril protested, struggling as they dragged him along, nobles and servants alike grinning and leering at him.

"Yes, you have," a new voice said. Athril started, jerking against the witches' tight grip on him. From the corner of his eye, Athril saw a familiar face glaring harshly at him.

* * *

Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin's consort. If he was now dealing with him, than he was in more trouble than he had originally thought. _Yes_, Athril thought in that moment. Everyone in the palace really _was_ fed up with his behavior. He'd just been far too stupid to see it. Too stupid and too self-obsessed. He could see that now.

Rowan Whitethorn was pissed off. After all he had heard about the legendary Athril he had honestly expected more from the warrior. He had assumed that warrior would be more like the heroes he had admired so greatly while he was growing up. But over the last month, his admiration had gradually faded.

He had certainly never expected Athril to lock himself away, blame himself so entirely for something that wasn't his fault. Yes, he had been pissed off about Athril, Manon and the Thirteen bringing Sam Cortland to Orynth, even before Cortland had been revealed as a traitor. He had been worried about how his presence in the city would affect Aelin, given that she had once loved him, and had spent the last few years believing him to be dead.

But he had not expected Athril to sulk so thoroughly about it, when it was so clear that they had been taken in. He had assumed that be made of sterner stuff, be more of the warrior that he had once idolised – not so much of a coward.

Both he and Aelin had had enough of his brooding and moping. Out of respect for the warrior, Rowan had tried to convince Aelin to give Athril the time to come to terms with what had happened on his own terms, to give him the chance to be the warrior he knew Athril to be – but her patience had long since evaporated, as had his.

He knew Chaol had attempted to convince Athril to come to terms with what had happened had get over it, but he hadn't. He had merely ignored Chaol's advice and continued to brood.

So, in turn, he and Aelin had decided to give up on Athril, had drag him back to the land of the living – no matter what it took.

As he and the three witches led Athril into the private chamber where Aelin was waiting for them, he saw Athril pale, as though he was starting to realise the level of trouble he was in.


	22. Chapter 22

**~22~**

Aelin stared harshly at Athril as he bowed nervously. Despite the debacle with Sam she had expected Athril to be more of a man about it all. She certainly hadn't expected him to hide himself away in shame. She had tried to be patient with him, tried to give him some time to come to terms with what had happened on his own terms. But as time went on, and Athril continued to do nothing but brood, Aelin's patience continued to plummet. The only reason she waited so long before summoning him for an audience, was because Rowan requested it, out of respect for the warrior's history with Brannon. But Aelin had run out of patience with Athril so long ago it wasn't funny. Did Athril think that he was the only one who was suffering? Did Athril honestly think that he was the only one who had been sucked in by a monster? Did he think that he was the only person who wished things had been different? Was Athril really that self-absorbed, that self-obsessed, that he honestly did not think about or care about what other people were going through? That he was unable to think about the feelings and needs of other people?

"I hear you have been struggling to come to terms with what has happened these last few weeks," Aelin said coolly, politeness be damned. She had wanted to have this conversation with Athril days ago, but Rowan had wanted her to give Athril longer to recover from the shocks he had endured. But she was out of patience and needed all hands on deck to deal with the army that Lyria was raising. And right now, that included Athril.

"I'm sorry about that, Majesty, but I have had a lot to deal with lately," Athril said, grousing a bit. He was feeling a bit more humiliated now that he was face to face with Aelin, shamed of not being able to protect her after the deaths of her parents, shamed of not being able to protect her in the years afterward. Shamed that he was now only reason that Terrasen was now facing the possibility of war.

"I realise that you have had some troubles with coming to terms with Sam Cortland being a traitor," Aelin said, wincing a bit as Athril visibly flinched at the words. "But that was weeks ago now, and brooding alone for so long was not the proper way to deal with it."

Athril gulped, trying and struggling to speak. Aelin was furious with him and about to punish him for his mistakes, his failure, he knew it. He just knew it.

Aelin watched Athril carefully as he struggled with himself. Athril's inner struggle was obvious, even to her, doubly so, as she herself knew what it was like to hate oneself for one's own choices. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Athril, or are you going to let me do all the talking?" she asked quietly, a touch more kindness in her voice.

For once, Athril was truly shocked by what his queen was saying. He had expected her to deal harshly with him for his failures, but here she was, openly giving him a chance to explain himself. He didn't understand. Where was the virulent temper, the swaggering arrogance that he had heard so much about? What had happened to the monster that he had half expected her to be?

Maybe Aelin wasn't as evil, or as cold, as all the stories portrayed her to be, Athril mused to himself. Yes, he was still slightly intimidated by her, but she had already shown him more kindness than he had ever expected from her, given her upbringing, and in that moment, Athril resolved himself to just tell her the whole damn truth.

"I kept to myself after Sam Cortland was revealed to be a traitor," Athril said quietly, finally feeling relieved to unburden himself. "Because I blamed myself for bringing him to Orynth. I blamed myself for not seeing through the charade he presented to the world and for not seeing that he was still under Lyria's thrall. And I was ashamed. Ashamed for many reasons. But I was far too ashamed of myself to be able to face you, Majesty, with my head held high. I felt that I had failed you greatly."

At that Aelin jerked back in place in shock. Of all things she had been expecting to hear from him during this audience, it had not been that. If Aelin had been thinking about it, she would have been expecting declarations of rage, of anger at what Terrasen had become. Anger at her for failing her kingdom for a decade. Not a declaration of utter shame and utter failure.

"I think you're going to have to explain yourself here, Athril," Rowan said quietly, as the three witches just looked bored. As though they no longer thought that Athril and his ever-present moodiness was worth bothering with. As though they were almost wondering what Aelin and Rowan were doing, bothering with Athril.

Athril quietly gulped, not knowing how he would be able to explain himself to his queen, and hold his emotions in check at the same time.

"When Brannon died," Athril began quietly, "I swore that I would do everything in my power to protect his descendants, to protect the sovereignty of Terrasen. To protect Terrasen itself from foreign invasion. He made me swear that I would look after his family and his kingdom, as he no longer would be able to. As I was widely believed to be dead, I was ideally placed to do so. Brannon also made it very clear to me that he would also hold me to the same very high standard that he held himself. But I broke my oaths to him when I failed to protect you, Majesty, after the deaths of your family. I failed you when I allowed that bastard who fancied himself a Lord of Assassins, take you and turn you into a monster as bad as the one who murdered your family. I failed when I failed to prevent the Adarlanian invasion. I am so deeply ashamed of how I failed you, Majesty, and of how I failed Terrasen."

There was a beat of silence as Aelin considered Athril's words. "I don't think that you're ashamed that you failed me," she finally said. When Athril began to protest, she ignored him, and continued speaking. "I think that you're ashamed because you weren't able to keep your promise – your oath – to Brannon."

"No," Athril said, swallowing heavily. "I assure you that is not the case at all. My shame stems from the fact that I was unable to protect my friend's family, unable to protect the kingdom that he loved so dearly."

"I think you're lying, Athril," Aelin said as gently as possible. "To yourself as well as to me. I think that the only honest thing you have said today is that you swore an oath to King Brannon and that he dearly loved Terrasen."

"He did," Athril whispered. "Brannon did love his family and his kingdom greatly. They were his greatest joys in this world."

"And you are now worried that he would be enraged with you because you were unable to prevent his descendants being assassinated and his kingdom from being invaded."

"I _know_ that Brannon will be wrathful at me because of that," Athril defiantly declared. "I swore him an oath and was unable to keep it when it truly mattered."

"But I am sure that Brannon would be understanding of the predicament you were in ten years ago," Aelin said calmly, settling back into her chair more comfortably, one hand on her pregnant belly. "There were extenuating circumstances, and no one at all, apart from Arobynn Hamel, was aware of my continued existence."

"But that's one of the things that I am most ashamed of," Athril said quietly, refusing to even look at her. "That even had to be raised by such a monster. That you had endure it for so much as a day, let alone a decade." Shame coated Athril's every word.

"But I survived," Aelin said vehemently. "I survived, and remained unbroken, when so many did not. Terrasen survived when so many kingdoms did not fare so well."

Aelin gave Athril a moment to absorb her words before continuing. "You need to forgive yourself for not being there when I was a child. Yes, my life was a living hell for a decade, but I survived it. All it did was make me stronger. You need to learn to accept the past. And to accept the fact that you are more upset about failing to keep your promise to Brannon then you are about failing someone you did not even know was alive."

Athril just looked shocked to hear what Aelin was saying, as though it was the first time he was hearing it. And to be honest, no one had informed him that they thought what he was really upset about was not being able to fulfil a promise to someone who had died a thousand years ago. So far pretty much everyone Athril had spoken to had just told him to grow up and get over himself.

"I think that I'll need some time to consider your words," Athril said thoughtfully. "I don't think that any one has ever put it that way before."

"I'm not surprised," Aelin said, rolling her eyes in impatience. "I highly doubt that you ever told people that what you were really ashamed about was not being able to keep a promise to Brannon."

"He did," Manon drawled. "I just told him that he was being a coward and that he needed to get over it."

"That may be very true, Manon," Aelin said, "but I have often learned that you cannot forgive other people until you are able to forgive yourself."

"_That_ is the one thing that I can _never_ forgive myself for," Athril said loudly. "For bringing Sam Cortland to Orynth. No matter what you say, my actions are about to bring war upon Terrasen, and there is now no hope at all for the future of either the family or the kingdom that Brannon so dearly loved. The family and kingdom that he entrusted me to protect with my life."

"Athril," Rowan sighed, speaking for the first time. "But since we have been forewarned about Lyria's impending assault, we have been able to plan ahead in order to thwart the army she has been raising. As her forces have not yet begun to march north, our spies have been attempting to brew dissension in her ranks. Also, in case you were blind, and had not yet noticed, Aelin and I are expecting our first child together. The child she carries is our hope for a better future. A better world."

Athril glanced between Aelin and Rowan, realising as he did, that they truly believed their words. The faith they had, the strength of their convictions, was in a stronger form than his own. And they were right, in a way. Forewarned was forearmed. He did not know if it was possible for Terrasen's forces to be able to beat Lyria's in open battle, but he saw Aelin's and Rowan's conviction, their hopes of a better future and began to hope. A better future, not just for Terrasen, but for all of the kingdoms of Erilea.

"The one thing about your recent behaviour that has angered me, Athril," Aelin said icily, "is that your self-absorption made it more than apparent that you do not seem to care about what the people around you have been going through. Chaol Westfall, Manon Blackbeak and the Thirteen have been at pains to prop you up these past few weeks as you did nothing but feel sorry for yourself. They will not be doing so anymore. Also, for your information, despite the hell on earth I lived through for a decade, I am heartily sick and tired of death and fighting. Yet, here I am, still fighting to attain a better world. A world in which my child will not have to hide or cower. A world in which my child will not have to look over her shoulder in fear as I have done my entire life. I would suggest that you find something you believe is worth fighting for and do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. You are dismissed."

As Athril bowed and backed out of the palace's small audience chamber, he thought about the meeting he had just had. What had shocked him the most was that, despite having been raised by an ultimate monster, Aelin Galathynius was more human, more real, than the most mundane humans. She was also one of the strangest people he had ever met. Both Fae and human, and yet, not quite either. Also, how many monarchs would have debated with a subject about the cause of their misery and melancholy?

With a jolt, Athril suddenly realised that Aelin _was_ right. He was more worried about how Brannon would react after learning just how far and wide his mistakes went, more worried about failing him, then he was about having failed an eight-year-old child who hadn't even known he existed. But by now Athril was aware that he had sunk far too deep into his melancholy and dejection to be pulled back down to reality so easily.

In that moment, Athril also realised that Aelin was probably a lot more complicated a person than he had ever thought or suspected. Her kindness to him during that audience had been a boon to him. On the other hand, her icy cold tone when she had spoken of his own self-absorption had chilled him to the bone. Deeper. He suddenly suspected, that despite the fact that she had not become a monster, despite the evidence her upbringing had suggested to the contrary, that Aelin probably could become a monster when the people she dearly loved were threatened.

* * *

"That went better than I expected of it," Rowan mused as he sank down into a chair beside Aelin's. "I had thought that Athril would be a bit more troublesome than that, given his past reputation as a warrior and all."

"I think the key words there are Athril's _past _reputation," Manon shook her head as she sat down opposite them. "I saw traces of that male, even on the journey here. But as soon as Sam Cortland was revealed to be a traitor and all, Athril changed completely. Not even I was able to predict that it would hit him as hard as it did. When it comes down to it, I don't think anyone could have. One day he was vibrant and confident, the next, moody and sullen after he found out the truth."

"I think it was too great a shock to his system for him to be able to bear it," Aelin murmured, more to herself then to her companions. "I was the same way after Sam died, the same again after Princess Nehemia's murder. Numb and in shock for days, unable to move, let alone think due to my grief, and then the need for vengeance took over completely."

"When do you think Athril will snap out of it, if ever?" Manon asked almost curiously. "I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but I do truly miss the man that Athril was before all of this happened. I… I l-loved him."

"I have to be honest with you here," Aelin said quietly. "I don't know. I just don't know. Everyone's psyche is different. We all deal with shock and grief differently. But for all our sakes, I hope that Athril deals with it sooner rather than later."

"Amen to that," Rowan said. "And no matter how long it takes Athril to return to himself, he will still have a place in Terrasen."


	23. Chapter 23

**~23~**

Lyria groaned to herself in disbelief as the first of Adarlan's lords returned to the capital, their forces with them. She was furious with the amount of time it had taken them to raise their armies so far, absolutely enraged. Not only was she livid about the amount of time it had taken them to raise their soldiers, but she was infuriated about just how few men there were in the lords' armies.

How did they honestly expect her to invade Terrasen – and win a war – with only barely three thousand men? Because if the rate of soldiers pouring into the city held steady, that's what the total number of soldiers would add up to, if you could even call them that. She would have been highly surprised if half of them were even trained.

But after she had a chance to thought about, while waiting for more lords to bring their forces to Rifthold, she decided that any surviving soldiers Adarlan had would have had to be rather hardy indeed in order to have survived that last war with the Valg.

What worried Lyria still was the fact that she literally had no idea what sort of conditions, or the numbers they would facing once they reached Terrasen's borders. Lyria suspected though, that Terrasen would actually have very few soldiers as it hadn't had a standing army since Adarlan had invaded twelve years before.

Lyria smirked at the mere thought. When it came down to it, the last King of Adarlan had done the good and proper thing in conquering Terrasen the way he had. She hated the thought of the fire-breathing bitch winning the kingdom's freedom back during the Valg war. All Lyria was doing was re-conquering Terrasen in the name of the glory of Adarlan.

"When do you foresee us marching north?" one of Adarlan's southern lords enquired of her the day after his return to the capital.

"As soon as the rest of the lords arrive, along with their forces," Lyria replied simply. She didn't know the lord's name. Had never cared to learn it nor bothered to learn it. She certainly wasn't going to stoop to learning it now. What a waste of time that would be.

"I don't believe they'll be arriving any time soon," the lord told, looking unbearably anxious. As he surely had good reason to be nervous, especially after Lyria and Dorian had so callously murdered Lord Westfall.

"Oh? And why not?" Lyria questioned, a deceptively sweetly innocent tone to her voice all of a sudden.

"Because all of us southern lords have been discussing among ourselves whether or not to gather our forces," the lord said quietly, nervous as all. "As you can see, some of us thought that it was worth the risk to not raise our forces, while some of us were too scared of you not to."

"Why on earth would any of you be scared of little old me?" Lyria asked, sounding genuine shocked for the first time.

"Because you are one genuinely terrifying woman," the lord said. By now he was wishing he were anywhere but here. Was wondering why he had even bothered pausing to speak to her.

"Before I have you killed for your insubordinance," Lyria said coldly, "you had better give me one extremely compelling reason not to slaughter you and your forces where you stand."

"Because you need my soldiers and myself," he said firmly, with a confidence that he sure as hell did not feel. "You won't have a single chance of conquering Terrasen without us if you kill us. And you don't have the time to drag our army around the country to wrest the control of the rest of Adarlan's forces from the southern lords."

"That may or may not be true," Lyria said coolly, her magic ready to strike the man down if necessary, but what about Adarlan's _northern_ lords? Would their forces be more useful to me? It would certainly be more convenient for me, as their keeps, their territories, are that much closer to the Adarlanian-Terrasenite border."

"Perhaps," another lord said. As Lyria had discussed the upcoming assault on Terrasen with the prominent southern lord, hurrying through the corridors of the castle of Rifthold, several other lords had joined them, eager to know the latest news. "Perhaps they could have proved themselves useful, if their forces had not been so thoroughly decimated during the Valg war. Despite the last two years of rebuilding, Adarlan's northern forces are still alarmingly depleted."

"But even in peacetime, armies remain generally well maintained. Especially so soon after the end of a war," Lyria responded, ice in her tone. "Lords still run border skirmishes on occasion."

"Whenever one of our lords runs a skirmish on Terrasen's southern border," the second lord said, "their forces are immediately repulsed. Ten years ago when his Majesty's late father attacked Terrasen, it was the first time in millennia that Terrasen had fallen to a foreign army for the very first time. Despite a decade of the ravages of conquest, Terrasen's armies remain highly trained. And still extremely determined to maintain their own independence, monarchy and sovereignty."

"Attacking Terrasen now would be tantamount to suicide," the first lord butted in, eager to say his piece and then be done with it and damn the consequences. "I would not be surprised if their spies had already received word of our impending assault. Queen Aelin is probably already gathering her forces to her side, ready to repulse our soldiers once and for all. And they will, you know. Repulse our forthcoming attack on their borders. When it comes down to it, we just don't have enough men to launch an invasion of Terrasen."

At that, Lyria turned her icy cold gaze on the two lords, stubborn determination on their honestly unctuous faces. Political manoeuvrings were their forte, no doubt about it, but Lyria was so thick-minded that they were sure that she wouldn't pick up on their normally silky smooth attacks. Hence the current straight forwardness of their conversation with the extremely terrifying foreign woman. In the backs of their minds, they were beginning to wonder if Lord Davis Westfall had done the right thing by questioning her judgement. Yes, he had also died in the process of asking his questions. But on the other hand, they were beginning to believe that it would be better to die then to live with this woman ruling over them all.

At the lord's comment's about Aelin raising her armies in order to combat their own cobbled together army, Lyria's magic struck both lords down. Blood spurted from their noses, the corners of their mouths, as her magic gave the two men as severe a beating as a mortal could possibly stand to bear.

"Now you listen now, and you listen good," Lyria snarled angrily, losing her temper. Would no one stop questioning her? "I do not _care_ about your petty little quarrels and personal anxieties and distresses. I do not _care_ if you survive this war I plan to wage. I do not _care_ if your soldiers live or die. I do not care if Adarlan falls into rack and ruin because of me. All I care about is myself. All I care about is my own quest for vengeance. Do you _understand_ me? Do you _understand_ what I am saying?"

The other gathered lords of Adarlan merely nodded silently; now completely and utterly cowed by her for once and for all. They knew now that they had no other choice but to obey this psychopath. Those two lords had been their last desperate hope of escaping the monster who stood before them; their last desperate hope of escaping a senseless war that none of them saw the point in. They had no wish to die for the deranged woman in front of them. But Lyria had placed them in an untenable position, and they had no choice whatsoever but to obey her every command; particularly if they wished to keep their lives. If they wished to save the lives of their families.

"Yes," they all murmured quietly, almost in unison. "We understand. Your wish is our command. We will not disobey your will."

"Good." Lyria nodded in satisfaction. "Prepare your forces in readiness to march. We ride north this time tomorrow. If your forces are not ready to march by then, you will be punished accordingly. I was going to give the rest of your forces more time to get here before marching north, but after your behaviour this day, I do not believe you deserve more time to gather your forces and to rest. You deserve nothing. Nothing at all."

Once again, they all nodded simultaneously before turning on their heels and departing. One lord in particular, debated just not turning up in the morning. Debated just saddling his horse and departing in the middle of the night. It wasn't like his few troops would make much of a difference in a pitched battle anyway. But in the end, he was far too cowardly to run away, being frightened of the repercussions that might be visited on his family, if he did not march north to Terrasen on Lyria's orders. However the unwilling lord thought that if he did indeed march north, he would be able desert along the way – particularly once Lyria's focus was distracted by the fighting once it began to get messy.

Yes, the lord thought in conviction. He would do that. Or perhaps somehow be able to pass on messages to the spies in Terrasen's employ once they were on the move. That would be a good plan – if he could only find the courage.

As Lyria's collected forces assembled just outside of Rifthold's city walls, she was once again disappointed by just how few they really were. It appeared that a handful of lords had decided to defect and take their small forces back to their home keeps and cities in the night. But the loss of those few troops would not be much missed, Lyria mused. For the only lords that had gathered their forces were Adarlan's southern retainers. On the long march north they would gather the forces of Adarlan's northern retainers – dragging them and their lords out of their keeps by their necks if need be.

"You know your duty," Lyria said loudly, beginning to address those gathered. "You know what we march north to do. We are not to be conquerors. When we fight, we fight for our very way of life. We will fight to maintain our rights, we fight for our continued freedom against those who might oppress us by keeping us downtrodden. We march to vengeance and to glory at long last. March on."

And on that note, Lyria turned her stunning silvery-grey mare northward and urged the mare into a canter; the rest of the army followed her lead and urged their horses after her. Extremely few of them wanted to be there, but felt they had no choice but to declare their allegiance to the kingdom that they all loved dearly; even during a war that they did not want a bar of.

* * *

Back in Orynth, they were well aware that Lyria and her cobbled together forces had begun to march north on them. The spies they had had stationed in Rifthold had smuggled the information, and themselves, out of the city in the early hours of the morning, mere hours before the army began to march northwards.

Aedion and Ren Allsbrook, who were principally in charge of gathering covert information, were annoyed as all hell that their spies had not returned to Orynth earlier, as they had long since deemed it too dangerous for them to remain in Rifthold. Yet their spies had steadfastly refused to leave, insisting that as long as they stayed, they would be able to gather more useful information. Aedion and Ren had merely growled in disbelief, not risk their lives. But they had had no choice but to accept their decision, ordering them instead to leave at the first sign of danger.

However, as General, Aedion had more to worry about than a few missing spies, who were liable to caught at any given moment. Right now, it was his job to ensure that Lyria and her soldiers were not successful in their attempt to once again subjugate Terrasen. And as this was the first attack on Terrasen by a foreign kingdom since Aelin's ascension to the throne, he was certainly feeling the pressure. He had no wish for Adarlan to reconquer his kingdom, and no wish for Aelin to be dethroned so soon after she had been crowned.

But even Aedion had to admit that he was rather surprised by who was attending this urgent, last minute War Council. The Lords of Terrasen he as much as expected as usual, he expected that Chaol was wanting some vengeance after Lyria had spent so many months threatening his dearest friend, and after Lyria and Dorian had murdered his father in cold blood. But what on earth were Athril and Manon doing there? But once he got over the surprise, Aedion remembered that Terrasen and the Witch Kingdom were firm allies since the war and that Manon was probably there as their representative. But Athril? What on earth was he doing there? Given his recent behaviour, he had no place there.

And where on earth was Lorcan? Lorcan could normally be found at council meetings, even when he made it quite clear that he would rather be anywhere else. Yet, at this most crucial meeting, he was nowhere to be seen. Aedion could not help but he disconcerted at his absence.

"The question now is, rather unfortunately," Darrow said, his quiet voice carrying through the chamber, "is where we are to meet them in battle. For it is blatantly obvious that it will come to that. And we have no choice but to meet them. The only question is to be the when and where. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

"If I may?" Athril said, surprising them all. "I do not think that it would be a good idea for them to get so close to Orynth. I would suggest that we let them tire themselves out on the foothills that form the border between our kingdoms, and then facing them on the open ground between the southern border and Perranth."

"I don't like the idea of Lyria's forces getting too close to Perranth, either," Aelin said worriedly. "We have to remember that the city is still rebuilding after being sacked by the Valg soldiers during the war."

"But if we ambush them here," Endymion murmured, looking closely at the map of the continent that was spread over the table. He indicated a place on the map close to where the Florine and Perranth rivers met near the coast. "We would be able to use the rivers against them. Ice them over for our use, and then smash the ice exactly when they are in the middle of crossing, drowning them."

"That would work well," Aedion murmured approvingly, as Darrow nodded as well. "If I remember correctly though, we used a similar technique during the Valg war. Though I suppose Lyria wouldn't know, or even care, particularly as she doesn't seem to know much about the history of this continent, according to what our spies have previously said."

"Not to mention the fact that it would likely drive Lyria mad that this plan means we won't be routing them at the border," Rowan said, squeezing Aelin's hand reassuringly. "Which is what Lyria is surely expecting. And if she's expecting it, then I am willing to bet that it is the only option that she's preparing her soldiers for."

Endymion nodded at that as well. "From what I've gathered of Lyria over the last two centuries, she is undoubtedly a very single minded person. If she doesn't meet us at the border, preparing to fight, than she will no doubt be expecting to be able to march all the way to Orynth completely unopposed."

"It's a good plan, Majesty," Darrow said, "I highly doubt we'll be able to come up with a better plan, no matter how long we sit here."

"Very well," Aelin said. "Then the armies will ride at dawn, along with whatever allies that will fight with us."

"The witches will march with you as well," Manon said calmly, voice carrying. "More and more of my witches have been flying into the city over the last few weeks. Each and every one of them are more than willing to fight for the comrades who saved their lives, and the lives of their friends and allies, during the war. And to fight for the justice and freedom that Terrasen stands for."

The war council broke up not long afterwards, and as everyone gathered their papers and filed out of the room, Aelin sighed in a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation. The closer they got to the final confrontation and as her pregnancy progressed, the more worried and relived she got. Worried about what could happen in the battle, the safety of her friends and family. And yet, at the same time, relieved at the idea of it all being over, relieved at the thought of her child being born in safety, in a world where she didn't have to look over her shoulder in fear so constantly.

"You know everything is going to go in our favour during the fight," Rowan told her quietly as they finally left. "We have the numbers, the high ground, and the much better strategy than our foes. We will win, I know it. We will win, and then we will be able to welcome our child into the world in peace and safety."

"I know," Aelin simply told him, while trying to figure out how to explain how she was feeling to him. "I… I just… I'm worried about what could happen in the battle, and yet at the same time I'm relieved that it's almost over. This has been one of the longest years of my life."

Rowan just smiled at Aelin peacefully. He knew how his wife felt, and like her, he couldn't wait for this year to be over. Unable to wait for Lyria to be defeated and finally get the fresh start he needed so desperately.

And once both Lyria and Sam had been dealt with accordingly, Aelin and Rowan would be able to get the clean slate to write the ending of their love story.


	24. Chapter 24

**~24~**

Lyria was feeling smug. So, so smug. And she felt she had good reason to feel smug, to feel pleased with herself, with the wisdom of her very own 'brilliant' war strategies. For they were now crossing the grassy plains and foothills that formed the border between Adarlan and Terrasen and yet they had not met any form of resistance. Lyria was now completely and utterly convinced that they would be able to ride all the way to Orynth, completely and utterly unopposed. She was now expecting Aelin to be defeated and broken in spirit and therefore an easy kill. Thus making it ever easier for her to snatch Rowan out from under her nose.

Deep down, however, Dorian knew that something wasn't right. The Aelin that he knew wouldn't willingly leave her kingdom undefended. This lack of opposition was brooking something rather suspicious in his opinion. But Dorian couldn't talk, not when he was acting against reason. Not when he was currently riding at the head of an army, intent on conquering the kingdom of his dearest friend.

Dorian wished, though, that he could break free of the hold Lyria had over him. He truly did not wish to destroy the life of his friend, nor to wreck the kingdom she so dearly loved. He wanted to know why she was not going to defend Terrasen from the army Lyria and he were riding at the head of. And most of all, he wanted to be free from Lyria. Why couldn't Aelin and the others come to save him from her?

He didn't want to spend the rest of his lifetime enslaved to her, his mind and body hers to command, to be freed only be his death. He didn't want to endure Lyria for a single moment longer. He didn't want to endure this slavery for a single moment longer. Why wasn't Aelin going to save him from this slavery the way he had saved her from the slavery of Endovier? Wasn't anyone ever going to save him? Didn't they care about him after all?

"Remember not to look so gloomy," Lyria said, smiling broadly, "when we enter the city of Orynth, to the cheers of the newly liberated people. When we are recognised as the heroes and liberators of this entire continent. Perhaps one day the liberators and heroes of this entire world. Just imagine how much they'll glorify us then."

"We've still got a while to go before we reach Orynth," Dorian said, all the while giving Lyria a saucy smile that he did not feel. Truth be told, he felt sick to his stomach, but with Lyria around, he had no control of his actions, of his speech. "If my memory serves right, we still have a few weeks' ride before we reach the capital city. And a couple of rivers to cross, as well."

"Bah!" Lyria declared loudly, clearly unconcerned. "Rivers are nothing, and are nothing to cross. I am more than used to rivers. After all, they don't call Doranelle the city of rivers for nothing. If any one will be able to ford and cross those rivers for our use, then it will be me. I am, after all, our resident expert on rivers."

Dorian wished he could frown at that, he didn't believe her claim about being an expert on rivers, nor did he believe that she would be able to find a way to cross those insanely deep and dangerous rivers all by herself. He also remembered with ease the ice and wind magic of Rowan Whitethorn and his cousins. If any one would be able to make those rivers uncrossable for their army, it would be Rowan and Endymion Whitethorn.

As though she could read his mind, Lyria suddenly shot him a sharp look, and Dorian suddenly felt something sharp and thorny jerk around in his insides, as though they were being torn up and shredded. _Have you forgotten that since our marriage, I can control all your actions, hear all your thoughts, read your mind as though slipping through the pages of a book? _Lyria's voice echoed through his mind. _Have you forgotten that I can, therefore, read and hear all of your disloyal thoughts? Do you not wish the honour of serving me and mine long ere now?_

Dorian _had_ forgotten. Or maybe he had simply been so miserable that he had not even noticed. If she could read his mind, just how much control did she have over him, and his life? Would death even be enough to save him from her? But for now… Best to appease her, he thought. If he managed to appease her enough, perhaps she would be more inclined to set him free once she had Rowan back in her life.

"I am sorry to have disappointed you, Lady Lyria," Dorian said amiably. "I hope I won't disappoint you again. Being in your service is true honour. Being in your service is true freedom. It is the honour of a lifetime to serve you. I hope to be able to provide you with your heart's desire ere long."

The various Adarlanian lords and their soldiers who were within earshot were appalled by their king's comments. They may not have understood the context of King Dorian's comments, but in reality, they did not need to know. For, it was quite obvious to them that their king had betrayed them all by selling their kingdom's freedom to this blatantly evil foreign woman. And now, he was cold hearted enough to lead an army on the kingdom of Terrasen, the very kingdom of which his friend was queen of. The kingdom of the very friend that Dorian claimed to love so dearly. Dorian's actions ever since the evil bitch of a lady had come into his life were nothing short of disgusting. It was nothing short of despicable.

However, if they wanted to retain their power, influence, wealth and positions, they had to remain silent. They had no intention of being killed by either Lyria or Dorian, simply for questioning their betters. They would remain silent, keep their growing indifference and hatred to themselves, even if it killed them to do it. For, they had no other choice, if they wanted to live, and they were too cowardly to desert the army that they had been forced – under the threat of death – to raise.

"Quiet, all of you," Lyria suddenly declared, although none of them had dared speak directly to her in nearly a month. In fact, none of them had dared speak directly to her since the day before they departed Rifthold. Lyria paused before continuing. "Within a few days, we will have crossed the border into Terrasen. Now, I understand that some of you might be feeling rather hesitant about the coming battle, having not yet recovered from the horrors you endured in the war. But I need you to get over such sentimental values. The citizens of Terrasen are as corrupt as its royalty. It does not matter, it does not concern me what happens to them, as long as they are punished as justly for their corruption, depravity and perversion and immorality as much as their rulers are."

Upon hearing Lyria's words, the foot soldiers began to fidget and the more highly ranked soldiers began to squirm in their saddles. Hearing Lyria speak about innocent lives like that made them more than slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't as though Adarlan were completely innocent in the human rights department; forcing people into the slavery in the mines of Calaculla and Endovier would forever be an unpleasant stain on their kingdom's history. But the wholescale slaughter of innocent lives like this was not something they felt comfortable with.

"Now, let us go free this kingdom from the corruption of its rulers," Lyria said spurring her horse forward, completely oblivious to their ever growing dislike and hatred of her person. Dorian merely smiled coldly at them all before spurring his horse after Lyria's.

They didn't get very far, after that creepy little villain's speech before one of the limited number of spies that were in Lyria's employ came galloping up on his horse – one lord couldn't help noticing that the spy's horse was of much poorer quality than Lyria's. Despite everything, the lord couldn't help wondering how cheap Lyria was if she couldn't even bother ensuring those in her employ had good quality animals to ride.

"Trap!" the spy gasped out as soon as he caught sight of Lyria and was within earshot. "It's a trap! Terrasen's forces are gathering at the junction of the Florine and Perranth rivers! They're planning an ambush for us! Flee! Flee! Flee for your very lives! Flee!"

"No," Lyria said loudly and firmly. "There will be no fleeing. If any of you attempts to flee or to desert this army, they will face the consequences of their actions."

Every one present, including the spy slash messenger, paled dramatically.

"We will face this army that the Fire Queen seems to have raised. Raised only in the sense of self preservation, for she evidently knows that the justice we bring will see her hanging," Lyria said loudly, unaware of the entirely negative affects her speech was having on her army. "We will face this opposing army, and we will win, for we are just in our causes and reasoning. When we face our enemy in battle at last, we will fight for our rights, for glory, and for justice."

Once again, everyone present merely stared at Lyria in shocked disbelief, completely unable to think, let alone speak. For it was blatantly obvious – to them, at least – that Lyria was not doing any of this for justice or glory. It was more than obvious to them all that she was only doing this for personal gain. They had all noticed the unhealthy obsession Lyria had with the consort of the Queen of Terrasen more than once. From that, and her evident hatred of Queen Aelin, it was fairly easy to infer that Lyria loved Rowan obsessively, and had been unable to get over the fact that he had jilted her.

"One last thing before we plan our strategy for the battle that is to come," Lyria said confidently. "I am so sure, so confident, of our imminent victory that any strategy that is we plan cannot encompass failure. If I say we will win this battle, then we will win. Victory will be ours, I swear it on my life."

Many of them were rather sceptical of Lyria's claims. Fighting a battle at the junction of two such mighty rivers would be a challenge for them, especially as Terrasen's forces would have claimed as much of the advantage they could find as they could, before they had even heard of them. But Lyria seemed to remain unaware of that. In fact, despite all of her previous assertions, she didn't seem to know the first thing about battle or warfare at all.

And that was worrisome to them all. Lyria's constant assurances of approaching victory, her constant self-delusions and sense of self-gratification did not bode well for them. In fact, nothing at all about the coming battle boded well for them. Nothing at all.

For they were foreigners and they did not know the territory well. But even so, they knew enough to know that their chances of victory in this battle were next to zero, the enemy would surely be using the rivers to their advantage, as well as the magics of their rulers.

Magic was the one thing in this conflict that Lyria had not even considered once. For magic had now been illegal in Adarlan for generations. Ever since magic had returned to the land, there were very few who had magical gifts flowing through their veins. Very few Adarlanian citizens who had magical gifts had survived the last King's reign of terror. Their magic wielders had been slaughtered wholesale.

And magic was now the one thing that could win them this fight. And their very lack of magic would surely be the one thing that would now damn them all to a slow and terrible death upon the battlefield.

Almost from that moment onwards, Lyria's planning for the coming battle seemed destined to fail. Despite her previous claims of being an expert on rivers, she now seemed to be nothing of the sort. She seemed to have no idea just how dangerous, just how deadly, just how lethal, a river battle could be. And that was just a full on battle where there was just one river involved. And in this case there were going to be two rivers involved in the battle.

If they were unable to ford the rivers, and as there was likely to be no such thing as bridges anywhere in the region of the two rivers met, many of them would surely drown in those rivers, dragged down by the weight of their armour.

But Lyria wasn't listening to them when they told her that. In fact, she told them that it wasn't her fault if the weight of their armour was too much for them to bear. She told them that it wouldn't concern her at all if all of them died in battle, as it would mean only that any survivors would be able to march northwards faster after the battle.

None of them dared point out to her that if they all drowned during the battle, if they were all killed, she wouldn't even _have_ an army to lead to Orynth. But none of them dared to mention it to Lyria, because if they did, they knew that Lyria would kill them herself.

The only thing that was cheering those soldiers in that moment was the fact that Lyria was clearly no longer feeling as smug as she had been before. The news of the ambush planned for them had thoroughly shaken her, even if she wasn't going to mention it to anyone – ever. The news of the ambush had shaken Lyria's confidence in her eventual victory. She was not as confident as she had been just an hour or two before.

Lyria's personality had changed irrevocably the moment they had begun to much north, and was growing more erratic by the minute. If he didn't know better, he would say that her self-delusional disorder was growing worse.

_Remember, I can hear what you are thinking,_ she suddenly said in his mind, and he groaned. He had, once again, forgotten about that particular little tidbit. _You must remember to remain a king confident of his coming victory in battle before the men, _Lyria told him mind to mind, reminding him firmly of his duties toward her. _But if you do continue to doubt my abilities I may have to review my opinions on your usefulness_.

Dorian merely bowed his head at that. Despite his cowardice, despite his desperate wish to be free of Lyria, he very much wanted to live. He knew that if Lyria 'reviewed' her opinions of him, then he would definitely end up dead. But Dorian was in a very precarious situation here, and he knew it. Dorian may have hated being bound to Lyria, but he was very much aware that it was only a matter of time before his lords and ladies, before the men of this army started questioning him openly about the disconnect between his actions and reasoned thoughts.

_If you think you aren't up to the task,_ Lyria snapped in his mind, _then you just shut the hell up and leave them to me._

_I will be able to handle it, _Dorian thought back bitterly, wishing the woman would just get out of his mind, and was pleased when her voice in his head went suddenly silent.

The moment when Dorian began to be questioned by his men about his loyalties came much sooner than he had ever expected. That night, after dinner, several of his lords and a handful of their soldiers cornered him in the very bushes where he had been seeing to his needs.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Dorian said calmly, trying valiantly to cover his shock and discomfiture. Who did they think they were that they could interrupt him when he was seeing to his body's needs? If they walked in on him while he was pissing, then what was to stop them walking in on him while he was having sex? He was their king, for heaven's sake! They would do well to remember it! "What can I do for you this fine evening?"

"Cut out the horseshit, Dorian," one of the lords said irritably. "You haven't been acting like yourself ever since the Lyria bitch first came to Rifthold."

"You surely can't agree with what the woman wants," another of the lords said. "Growing up, you always said you wouldn't ever act like your despicable father – your words, not mine. And now you're acting exactly like him. Terrasen is the kingdom of one of your dearest friends. And yet, here you are, set to reconquer and destroy it."

"So?" Dorian shrugged, suddenly wishing they would just go away. "Where are you going with this? Quite personally, I don't."

The third lord in the group spoke up at this. "What we want to know is if you truly believe the horseshit that Lyria is spouting, or if you hate or as much as we do. This is us trying to gauge if you want Lyria gone as much as we do. If you want to get rid of her as much as we do."

Dorian was truly torn as he said that. On the one hand, he truly despised Lyria, and wanted her gone as much as they seemed to want her gone. But on the other hand, due to the way he was bound to Lyria, he was also duty bound to tell her all about this conversation, and her response would be to kill them all.

"I don't know what to tell you, gentlemen," Dorian said as calmly as possible, trying to fight his rising panic. "Lyria only wants what is best for us all. I would suggest that you all begin to obey her as I do. You will find life much easier if you do."


	25. Chapter 25

**~25~**

Approaching the battlefield that they'd selected Aedion smirked as he glanced over at Rowan. As the army and their allies continued to gather upon the northern bank of the river Florine, it seemed as though all of their plans were about to come to fruition.

Aedion almost sighed in relief as he recalled the latest intelligence that their spies had fed them. It seemed that they had gained many spies during the Adarlanian nobility and armed forces due to Lyria's generally psychopathic behaviour.

The thought of that particular meeting made Aedion smirk yet again. It turned out that the only people within the army that Lyria was leading who actually wanted this fight were Dorian and Lyria herself. Not to mention the fact that the current consensus was that Dorian was only for the invasion because he was under Lyria's thrall – ceremonial marriage was an extremely powerful contract.

It was only fear of Lyria herself that kept her soldiers from deserting her now. And that fear may work in their favour.

"What do you think our chances are?" Aedion asked solemnly.

"I don't know," Rowan replied wearily. He was already exhausted from helping Endymion ice over considerable sections of both rivers. "I suppose it depends on how large Lyria's forces are, how loyal they are to her. How scared of her they are."

"I hate to admit it," Aedion said, "but they'll likely keep marching forward out of their fear of Lyria. And they'll die for it. They'll literally drown due to that fear."

"But we have one thing that they don't have," Rowan said with a savage smirk. "We have something worth fighting for. We are united out of loyalty, not fear. And most of all, we have something that Lyria has apparently been disregarding entirely. Magic."

"But will our few magic wielders be enough to combat theirs? I know that Aelin is prepared to fight with magic as well as with blades, but I worry about the toll it will have on her, especially with her being so far along in her pregnancy."

"I'm worried about it too," Rowan admitted. "But as long as Aelin is careful and restrained with the amount of magic uses over the course of the battle, then I am fairly sure she should be alright." He paused momentarily, "I promise you that I'll look after Aelin."

For a moment it looked like Aedion was going to protest, but he decided against it in the end. It wasn't that Aedion didn't trust Rowan, because he did, but considering the circumstances, he didn't know if Rowan was thinking all that clearly at the moment. Aedion was perfectly well aware that all Lyria wanted was to kill Aelin in order to steal Rowan back. But he was more than concerned for the safety of his cousin, her husband and their unborn child. He was worried about what would happen to Aelin if Rowan decided to abandon her and return to Lyria. He knew that the possibility of that happening was extremely unlikely, but he still couldn't help worrying about all the _what-ifs _and the _what may have beens_. He didn't want to see Aelin hurt any more than she already was.

"Try not to worry about Aelin," Rowan said calmly, noting Aedion's anxiety, though mistaking the reasons behind it. "Aelin will be fine. We will all be fine."

"For the last time, are you certain that this trap will work?" Aedion asked, deliberately ignoring Rowan's statement. "I'd hate to find out that all of our planning and effort have been for nothing. That lives of our people have been lost for nothing."

Rowan looked pensive as he considered Aedion's words. "I have to believe that it will work," he said finally. "I have to believe that it will work, for I can't let this all be for nothing."

Aedion nodded silently, surveying the camp being set up. As he continued to watch the soldiers go about their usual activities and nodded in satisfaction. Sometimes, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what war it was, some things never changed. And strange as it was, the sight of the army camp being set up brought him an immense sense of comfort.

Rowan clapped Aedion on the shoulder as he strode off in order to find his wife, hoping that she was still where she had been the last time he had seen her. Aedion was so distracted that he didn't even notice him leave.

As Rowan strode through the camp, he failed to notice just how many of the men watched him pass, respect in their eyes, failed to notice how they had grown to respect him as much as they had respected Aedion during the years that Terrasen had been subject to Adarlan's conquering army.

No, Rowan's attention was on Lorcan, arguing quite heatedly with Aelin. As Rowan hurried toward his mate's side as fast as he could he saw Lorcan raise his arm – as though to slap or punch Aelin – only for his hand to meet with a shield of burning fire.

Despite Rowan's pride and faith in Aelin's ability to defend herself, he couldn't help wondering what Lorcan thought he was doing, arguing with his queen in the first place. He had hardly been seen after their ruse in using Lorcan to gain information from Sam had ended and he had been allowed out of the dungeons. Lorcan had made himself pretty scarce since then, and yet none of them had wondered what had caused that distance to open between them. They should have all wondered. They should have questioned it. But they hadn't, and Rowan felt so, so guilty about for not wondering about it at all.

Rowan couldn't help scowling at Lorcan's audacity in arguing with Aelin so close to such an important battle. Rowan was quite aware of the disdain and hatred that Lorcan bore Aelin, but had believed that the male had gotten over it during the time they had spent working together during and after the last war.

Uncaring to the stares that were being sent his way, the crowd that was gathering, Lorcan continued to shout and scream at his queen, uncaring of the attention he was drawing, uncaring of her growing anger and rage.

As Rowan stormed forward, determined to give Lorcan a piece of his mind once and for all, he began to catch snippets of what he was screaming at the top of his lungs. "_**But why won't**__ you set me free once and for all…? Why can't you __**just let me go…?**__ You know perfectly well that I __**don't**__ want to be here…_?"

Lorcan was so distracted by the sound of his own voice shrieking at his own queen that he failed to notice Rowan approaching on silent feet. He was so busy shouting his head off that he didn't notice that Rowan was there at all until Rowan had already leaped upon him and tackled him to the ground.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Lorcan shouted angrily as Rowan landed on top of him.

"I could ask the same of you," Rowan snarled back just as angrily. "Where do you get off, shouting and screaming at your queen like that?"

"I could ask what right she has to call herself my queen," Lorcan said haughtily, "when I am a warrior of Doranelle, not a citizen of Terrasen."

"In case you had forgotten, Lorcan," Aelin said coldly, "you became a citizen of Terrasen the moment you swore yourself to my service."

"Tell yourself what you want as long as it makes you feel better," Lorcan replied just as coldly. "But the fact remains that I desire my freedom and a release from my service to you, and yet you are consistently refusing my requests."

"This is the first I've heard of it," she replied firmly, "and this is the first time I've refused your request. I don't see how that could count as 'continually consistent refusing'."

"What I don't understand is why you bothered waiting until the day before an important battle to start voicing your doubts for the first time," Aedion said hatefully from the press of bodies surrounding the three of them.

"Where on earth did you come from?" Lorcan said scowling at him, evading his questions even as he failed to evade Rowan's fist breaking his nose.

"Answer the damn question!" Rowan snarled balefully, continuing to punch him again and again, no mercy at all in his voice, his gaze.

"Answer what question?" Lorcan muttered, curling up in a ball on the ground, still trying to fend off Rowan's relentless attack.

"Why wait until now to start saying you wanted to leave my service?" Aelin said coldly. "And remember, you _must_ answer honestly."

"Because I cannot serve someone who will lock me in a _stinking_ dungeon with a madman, just to gain some information!" Lorcan shouted out, hoping against hope that telling the truth would halt the attack on him.

And Lorcan was partly right – Rowan stopped punching him and moved just enough to let Lorcan sit up properly.

"So you were fine serving Maeve, who brutally whipped you for the slightest infraction," Aelin frowned at him, "but you are most definitely _not_ fine serving me, who simply had you do your job and get information out of a suspect?"

"I am a mighty warrior," Lorcan said haughtily. "I am a warrior who deserves to be punished for infractions committed. I am a warrior who does not belong in a dungeon cell."

"You've been out of the dungeons for at least two or three weeks now," Aelin rolled her eyes. "Yet _you_ chose not to mention it until now. _You_ decided that the best time to mention your desire to leave my service was the day before a battle. And yet, I have to ask you why?"

"Because I've been trying to convince Elide to leave me!" Lorcan yelled angrily at her. "I want my wife to leave with me, but just like you she always has to refuse my requests! I've even tried ordering her to leave Terrasen with me, yet she still refuses to heed me!"

"At least Elide knows where her loyalties lie," Aedion snarled at the male on the ground before him. "At least Elide knows that she owes her anointed queen her unquestioning loyalty and allegiance."

"NO!" Lorcan shrieked at the top of his lungs. "As my wife, Elide owes the greater loyalty to me alone!"

"ENOUGH!" Aelin suddenly shouted as Rowan, Aedion and Lorcan continued screaming and shouting at each other furiously. "Can't you stop screaming for longer than two seconds? I can't hear myself think."

At that Rowan and Aedion immediately left off Lorcan, albeit reluctantly.

"What do you want to do with him, Aelin?" Aedion sighed. "I admit we could still use Lorcan's skills and abilities in the coming battle, but I don't know if we can ever really trust Lorcan again after this."

"I know," Aelin replied, trying to hide the fact that she was still shaken. "Although I suspect we can wait until after the battle is over and we return to Orynth to decide Lorcan's fate. If he proves himself worthy in battle, perhaps I will feel more inclined to be lenient with him."

"Consider yourself lucky," Rowan snarled furious at Lorcan. "And if I were you, I would behave myself. I would hate to have to tell that wife of yours that you've been accused of treason."

"Elide wouldn't care even if I were accused of treason," Lorcan said, as arrogant and conceited as he ever was. "She and I were made for each other, as you and Aelin were, Rowan. Nothing at all would be able to part us. We belong together forever. And as my wife, her duty is to obey me alone. After all this is over, Elide and I will start our new lives far away from Terrasen, in a place where we can truly have a fresh start."

"You can tell yourself that as much as you want, Lorcan," Aelin said icily, even as she caressed her heavily pregnant belly. "But know for a fact that Elide will never leave Perranth, or Terrasen at all. I don't particularly care what happens to you, Lorcan. You can live in poverty in a mud hut in the Staghorns for all I care."

Lorcan merely glared at Aelin at that. "No matter what," he growled, "I will ensure that you grant Elide and I our freedom from you, even if it is the last thing I ever do."

"You can try," Aelin said coolly, turning her back on him and stalking back into her tent with Aedion and Rowan following.

"How on earth did that start?" Aedion asked curiously once the three of them were alone. "I didn't even know that something was going on until I saw the crowd and heard raised voice. I don't think either of us knew."

"To tell the truth, I didn't even know that Lorcan felt that way until just then," Aelin said slumping. "I didn't know that he still despised me so much."

"Hopefully the beating I gave will have knocked some sense into him," Rowan said grimly. "He ought to know by now that he can't just demand that you free him and his wife from your service just like that. Not when the only titles and honours he has here are the ones bestowed on by the right of his marriage to a Terrasenite noblewoman."

"I don't think it'll be all that easy," Aelin muttered under her breath, "but I meant what I said before. The bastard can live in a mud hut in the Staghorns for all I care, and I won't ever think of him again after this gods-damned battle."

"Are you sure you're alright, Aelin?" Aedion said, noting the way she was still rubbing her belly with considerable concern.

"Not sure," she muttered, "don't think the baby liked all that screaming and shouting. He's been bouncing all over the place since the moment that pathetic bastard started screaming his head off at me for no reason at all."

Rowan and Aedion eyed each other apprehensively at that. In that moment they knew that they were both thinking the same thing. What if the shock of Lorcan's verbal attack had sent Aelin into premature labour? There was, after all, still another month until the baby's due date. That was literally the last thing they needed right now, especially so close to the battle.

Slowly Aelin's anxious pacing and furrowed brow eased. "There, there, like the peace and quiet better than all that screaming, do you? Ok, I'll make sure things stay calmer for you, then."

"I assume that the baby stopped bouncing so much, Aelin?" Rowan enquired worriedly.

"Yeah," Aelin said, leaning into Rowan's side. "I guess the little one just needed some time to calm down and relax after all the excitement. It just didn't like Lorcan's screaming so much."

"I guess that means the child won't be much a fighter," Aedion joked, trying to put a lighter spin on everything.

"I guess we won't know until he or she is a bit older," Aelin said quietly.

"What do you want the baby to be?" Rowan suddenly asked. "Boy or girl? We've never really talked about it before."

"I don't know," Aelin muttered confused. "I suppose the specifics don't really matter to me so much as long as he or she is healthy."

"For some reason I always imagined our first child would be a girl," Rowan said almost wistfully. For the first time in months, Rowan remembered the dream he had during the war – Aelin and his children being separated from him by that damned chasm. Now, if things went badly, he would still be separated from his mate and child. Never before had he realised just how much he should have cherished the peaceful times.

And in that moment, Rowan decided that if they all made it through this alive, he would never again take the peace of his ordinary everyday life for granted again. He, Aelin and the child they were having were a family now, and they meant the world to him.

"Looks like you've come to an important decision," Aelin said, noting the changed expression on her mate's face.

"Yes, if and when we all get through this, I'm not going to take the easy times for granted anymore," he said quietly, pulling Aelin down next to him.

"Sometimes you two ate so sickingly sweet you make me want to puke," Aedion muttered, pulling face.

"Aren't things going well between you and Lysandra?" Aelin asked suddenly. What with all that had happened over the last few months, she had never bothered to enquire as to the status of Aedion and Lysandra's relationship.

"I have absolutely no idea," Aedion snapped back at her. "Lysandra hasn't been herself in months. At first I thought that she was just worried about you, but as time went on and Lysandra kept acting weirdly and nothing was ever the same between us again."

"You probably just need to sit down and talk things through with her," Rowan said quietly, wanting to help him and yet not wanting to interfere. "Speaking from experience, being able to talk about things with your partner really helps a lot."

"You do realise that I'm right here, right?" Aelin said sarcastically.

Rowan stared at Aelin in shock. "I wasn't trying to offend you, I was just telling the truth!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Aelin complained lightly. She knew that Rowan was just being honest with Aedion, but just couldn't help but being slightly annoyed at the same time. The closer she got to the baby's arrival, smaller and smaller things irritated her more and more.

"He meant well, Aelin," Aedion said softly. "You know that right? Besides, I probably should have sat down and actually talked to Lysandra about what's bothering her months ago."

"I wonder what the hell could have happened to have changed Lysandra so much," Rowan said thoughtfully. "I haven't exactly been paying attention, but now that I look back on it her behaviour change has been rather sudden."

At that, the three of them fell silent, reflecting on what the last year had brought and wondering what the next few days would bring. What would happen after the battle? Would they even be able to win?

As though he had read their minds, the messenger they'd sent out on a scouting mission days ago burst into their tent at that moment.

"What is it?" Rowan barked out, leaping to his feet, dragging Aelin up with him. Aedion immediately stood as well, hand on his sword, guarding their backs.

"Th – the enemy has been sighted," the messenger gasped out. "They'll be here within just a few hours."

Rowan nodded at the messenger as he backed out of the tent and turned to Aelin. "Promise me you'll be careful, Aelin," he begged. "Just, please, be careful. I couldn't bear to lose either of you."

The second that Aelin reassured his anxieties, they all run out of the tent at full speed. Their fates would be decided upon these frozen rivers within the next few hours.


	26. Chapter 26

**~26~**

Lyria's forces were still further away than any of them had ever expected, further away than the piss poor messenger had led them to believe – currently they were barely a dark smudge on the horizon, only just visible. Instead of the enemy arriving in just a few hours as the messenger had suggested, it was likely to be at least a full day at the very most.

But it was the final delay that they needed, in order to prepare. Rowan and Endymion had already expended much of their power in freezing the rivers, now they placed deep cracks in the ice, so that it would break apart at the opportune moment – right when the majority of the opposing army was crossing both rivers, leaving the smaller force in between the two rivers.

Hopefully Lyria and Dorian would be among those who drowned, and good riddance if they did, but if not, then it didn't really matter either way. It wasn't as though either of them would ever live to see the light of day again. Not after what they had done, attempting to bring down one of the oldest monarchies on the continent, out of nothing except sheer bloody minded spite.

Upon watching the enemy's approach Aelin's expression revealed nothing, but she just felt relief. Relief and a lack of enthusiasm. Due to her upbringing under Arobynn's tutelage, Aelin was usually eager for a fight. But her advanced pregnancy meant that she would have to remain reserved, that she would not be able to fight with her full powers and abilities the way she longed to. Yet she was relieved that the last year would soon be over, that an end to fear was in sight.

"I have always hated this part of the battle," Aedion said quietly, suddenly appearing beside Aelin once again. "The waiting for the battle to actually begin. I'd much rather just get it over with. I could never stand the suspense."

"But at least it will all be over soon enough," Aelin muttered back. "I don't know how much longer I would have been able to live like I have been this last year, constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering when and if _she_ was going to strike."

Aedion immediately looked sympathetic. "I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through this year. No one should feel that their life is threatened. Especially while pregnant."

"At least it will be over soon," Aelin repeated herself, before continuing, looking cheeky. "Then we just have to figure out how to get you and Lysandra back together."

"_Aelin_," Aedion groaned. "Do you have any idea just how crazy you sound just now, talking about that just before a battle this important?"

"Well, what else am I going to talk about?" Aelin snapped back. "Do you really want me to go around feeling sorry for myself?"

"I suppose not," Aedion muttered, ungracefully conceding the point.

"Are you two seriously arguing again?" Rowan asked, walking over from where he had been discussing battle strategies with Endymion, attempting to decide upon the best moment to smash the frozen rivers. "What is it this time, then?"

"Aelin just thought that it would be a good time to try and set me up with Lysandra again," Aedion scowled unhappily. As much as he liked Rowan personally, he wasn't exactly fond of airing his personal life in front of him. In fact he wasn't fond of the airing of his personal life in front of _any_one.

"Well, in that case, when we've dealt with this problem here, perhaps you can patch things up with Lysandra," Rowan said frankly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Aedion muttered, growing annoyed. "I've already admitted that I most likely need to work things out with Lysandra, but in case you haven't noticed this is hardly the best time."

"For heaven's sake," Endymion said, overhearing their conversation as he approached. "In case you hadn't noticed, right before a battle isn't exactly the best time to be handing out romantic advice. Besides, you two were banging on about it to him earlier."

"Were you eavesdropping on our conversation in the tent earlier?" Aelin said, in equal parts shocked and outraged. How _dare_ he listen in on her private conversation with her mate and her cousin! He had no right.

"Of course I was!" Endymion exclaimed, looking almost shocked. "I admit that I was concerned about you after Lorcan started screaming at you, for absolutely no reason at all. I have to admit that I blamed myself for that. It was my plan that placed him in the dungeons with Sam Cortland, after all. If I hadn't come up with that plan, then Lorcan would never have grown so resentful and aggrieved with you."

"I know that you and I have never been that fond of Lorcan," Aelin said, "but even I never realised that his hatred had grown so much. I don't think anyone could have. He agreed to the dungeon plan. He said he was willing to help with whatever plans we had. Lorcan hid his resentment well and he played us all. No matter how long or short a time he was planning this, he played us all, and he played the game well."

"That he has," Rowan muttered bitterly. Out of all four of them, Rowan had the best claim to anger and bitterness at Lorcan's actions, having had worked with him for centuries.

"Why the bloody idiot couldn't just shut his mouth and keep quiet is beyond me," Rowan muttered. "After all he put you through during the war, you were far more decent to Lorcan than he could ever possibly deserve."

They all fell silent at that, not having anything to say. For every word was true. Aelin had been willing to over look Lorcan's treachery, allow him into Terrasen, into her service, and even allowed him to marry one of her noble ladies – all of this just in order to make Elide happy.

Silently watching the enemy approach, Aedion wondered how Elide would react to the news of her husband's continued betrayal. He highly doubted that she was currently aware that Lorcan wanted them to leave Aelin's service.

Elide was highly devoted to her queen and would not willingly leave her service. Besides, before they had travelled south to the battlefield, nothing in Elide's demeanour had suggested that she had known what her husband had been planning. Therefore it was likely safe to assume that Elide didn't have a clue about her husband's plans or treachery. She would never agree to any of it. And if Lorcan thought that she would, than he was deluding himself.

"Well, as interesting as this tête-à-tête is, I don't believe that we have the time to continue it," Endymion said candidly.

A mere glance to the frozen rivers at their feet told them that their enemy was right where they had wanted them. It was time to act. It was time for Lyria and Dorian to pay for their crimes for once and for all.

The sudden flurry of action coming from the army surrounding them brought a sense of comfort to them at that moment in time. They had the high ground, the advantage and the means to win this battle. They had every possibility of winning and likely would. But in that moment they no longer felt alone. They had the love and support of their people always propping them up and pushing them forward.

"Well then," Aelin said sombrely, "let's go rattle the stars." Rowan let out a joyless chuckle at the words as he and Endymion sent out another joint wave of their power, creating deep chasms and cracks in the ice, ready to break at any given moment.

* * *

Despite the messenger arriving with the news with the Terrasenite army forming a trap for them between the Perranth and Florine rivers, Lyria was still feeling rather confident. Far too confident for the men's liking. It seemed to constantly slip her mind that the opposing army would have all the advantage in the coming battle. They had the better position, and what with the multiple magic wielders in Terrasen, they would surely have several water wielders controlling a good portion of both rivers. Their forces were already small enough as it was, and with no magic wielders at all, the majority of them would likely drown, for Lyria would surely do nothing at all to save. Their lives were worthless to her.

As they neared the first river that they were to cross – the Perranth river – Lyria widely smirked to herself before turning to face them all. Her army – the Adarlanian lords and ordinary foot soldiers who were there unwillingly froze, not wanting to become her latest victims. They would rather die at the hands of the enemy, or cast their lives to the mercy of the unforgiving river.

"I am perfectly well aware of how little esteem you currently hold me in," Lyria said coldly, her icy tone not matching her cheerful countenance, "but I have pray that your opinion will change with the successful victory that we are to win today. I have to tell you one last time that we are to be victorious today. Yes, Terrasen's army has gathered. But if they did not mean us to win, they would not have iced the river over for our use. They have come thus far only so they can surrender to us in person here rather than face the shame of having us surround their precious capital in defeat. The only reason that they have chosen to surrender here is because that it is far from any form of civilisation. They do not want us to threaten their people the way we have threatened them. They know that we have the superior army. The superior forces."

Extremely few of the Adarlanian lords and their soldiers, if any, believed Lyria's words at that moment, noting the dangerously deep cracks in the ice and the faint creaking noise as the ice cracked. It was blatantly obvious, to them, at least, if not to Lyria, that frozen river was not safe to cross. Far from it, actually. But they all were far too afraid of Lyria to mention any of it – either to her face or behind her back.

Dorian wasn't going to be any help to them either. He was too in thrall to Lyria to realise that they were knee deep in trouble. Instead of helping them get out of this whole situation with Lyria, helping free them from this slavery, their sworn king was thinking with his cock, with his brain in his pants. Their king was doing nothing and was going to get them all killed.

Their king was going to get them all killed in a pointless battle that had nothing to do with them and he didn't even care. Their king's brain was in his pants and was not thinking about the safety of his people. He had been so deeply in thrall to the witch who was leading them, that he longer cared about the very people that he had sworn to serve and protect.

Their crowned king no longer cared about his people. It was an extremely bitter pill for them to swallow, hard for them to accept.

Either ignoring or not noticing their discontent, Lyria turned to Dorian, riding strongly, confidently, by her side. "Now, my beloved king, are you ready to reclaim your glorious destiny?"

"I am, my lady Lyria," Dorian said lovingly, openly flirting with the gorgeous Fae woman. "And are you ready to reclaim what you lost so many centuries ago?"

"Yes, I believe I am," Lyria said firmly, determinedly, no trace of affection for Dorian in her tone. "In fact, I believe that I have waited long enough for this. Now, forward."

At that, the soldiers so slowly, so carefully, began to march over the frozen river, many of them eyeing the ice warily as they did so. And they were right to be wary of the cracking ice, more than any of them knew. As the last third of their forces crossed the frozen river, the cracks in the ice deepened, and continued to crack to the point where the ice smashed through completely and their soldiers and their horses fell through the layer of broken ice into the raging river below.

"What the hell just happened?" Lyria shouted, quickly and harshly reining her horse to a halt.

"Magic," one of the soldiers said in a rather stunned tone of voice. He had been one of the last soldiers who had been able to cross the river before the ice broke. "They have several magic wielders in their army. One of them must be a water or ice wielder."

Lyria felt a sudden surge of anger at the thought of Endymion Whitethorn. She knew that he had somehow made it to Terrasen while escaping her detection all the while. But right now she didn't give a damn about that. No, she did not.

How _dare_ Endymion attempt to thwart her now, when she was so close to achieving her goal? How dare he? He had right to thwart her now, when she was so close to winning Rowan back, and killing the fire breathing bitch of a queen that Rowan had supposedly married and knocked up. After this show of defiance, Endymion had to die alongside that queen. Both Aelin and Endymion would die, and Rowan would have to learn to live without them. Luckily, she would be there to love and support him through the difficult time. And in time he would learn to love her again, the way he had loved her two centuries ago.

In her complete self-absorption Lyria was unable to see the truth even when it was right in front of her face. Unable or unwilling to see that she had lost Rowan two hundred years ago, and nothing she did would bring him back to her. Unable to comprehend the fact that he wouldn't even want to come back to her, especially in the wake of the atrocities that she had committed in the last year alone. Completely unable, completely unwilling to admit to the fact that Rowan no longer loved her and had finally found the peace and happiness that he needed in order to move on with his life with his new family.

As a matter of fact, many of the lords and ordinary soldiers in Lyria's small army pitied her. Pitied her and hated her in equal measure. Hated her intensely for what she was putting them all through. How they hated her. Yet they also pitied her for her complete lack of empathy. Pitied her for her complete and utter inability to see the truth when it was right in front of her face. Pitied her for her inability to leave the past in the past and move on her life. They all thought that she should just accept the fact that Rowan Whitethorn no longer wanted her and just move on with her life. But she was either unwilling to, or unable to.

As the remainder of the force shifted uncomfortably in their saddles or on their feet, Lyria snapped at them in anger. "Do not help them any of out of that river," she almost screamed at them. One young man who had reached to help an older man out of the torrid, raging river. "If any of you attempt to assist any of your comrades out of that river, than you will pay with your lives."

The young man who had attempted to assist his fallen comrade slowly eased to his feet in dismay. He didn't feel that it was right to abandon those who had fallen through the ice, not when there was a chance that they could yet survive. The older man that he had attempted to save struggled and thrashed to get to the river bank, but failed and slowly went under the surface. The young man swallowed heavily as he turned around. He had never seen anyone die before, and to witness this was quite horrifying to him.

Ignoring the mumblings and mutterings of the men she had gathered to fight for her, Lyria merely spoke over him. "Regardless of the freak accident that we just witnessed, our objective is still the same. We are still able to win. Now, you are going to grow up and get over yourselves and march forward. Remember that you have a job to do."

Many of the soldiers were extremely uncomfortable about obeying Lyria's orders, but were still more frightened of Lyria than they were of the queen of Terrasen and her consort. As long as they were willing to surrender on the other side of the other river, if they survived crossing it, they believed that Queen Aelin would still be more merciful to them than Lyria would ever be.

Slowly they crawled their way toward the Florine River, their spirits plummeting lower than the icy temperature. Would the ice on the river break through again? If it did, how many of them would drown in the glacial waters? Would Queen Aelin truly show mercy to any survivors? They had, after all, made the effort to appease Lyria. They had come all this way for her. And now they were going to die for her.

Why on earth had they thought that appeasing Lyria would help any of them? It had been blatantly obvious from the get go that she didn't give a damn about them. So why had they attempted to make her and Dorian happy, when it was clear as hell that they didn't care about their happiness or their welfare. Heck, it was perfectly clear that the only people that Dorian and Lyria cared about were themselves.

The frozen over river was growing ever closer. How many of them would survive crossing it, if any of them at all? Were the cracks in the ice deepening by any chance?

Yes, the cracks in the ice were growing ever deeper as they crossed it.

Then, suddenly, the ice was breaking again, smashing through, sending half of their surviving forces down to the arctic waters below, a magical wind blowing across the still battlefield, pushing the men in the water back across to the other side of the river bank and under the surface of the water.

With a roar of utter fury that terrified the already utterly terrified soldiers, Lyria saw her beloved Rowan standing with his arms firmly around the waist of the queen whore who had stolen him from her, Endymion and a stranger standing close by, both with hands on sword hilts, an army amassed at their backs.


	27. Chapter 27

**~27~**

Lyria didn't think that she had ever been so enraged before in all the three centuries of her existence. Her mate, her beloved mate was standing just feet away from her, and yet, instead of looking at her with the affection and relief, was looking at her as though she was something disgusting that he had trodden on. Like a squashed slug on the bottom of his shoe. He had amassed an army to fight hers. An army that was far larger than hers had been, even in the beginning.

And yet, Rowan still loved her, she was certain of it. The fire breathing bitch queen had just placed him under her thrall, and once Lyria had cut him free, he would be ever so grateful to her, she just knew he would be. But how on earth would she free him from her clutches, Lyria suddenly found herself wondering in that moment. No, it would not help if she showed herself to be as angry and violent as she had been in the last few months. The anger that had been brought to the surface by the knowledge that the bitch queen had enspelled her beloved mate.

No, it would all go much better for her if she showed herself to be the same loving, caring, generous and compassionate female that he knew her to be. It was time for her to be the benevolent female that had first attracted Rowan's attentions. Rowan would know her to be acting genuine and fall in love with her all over again.

"Rowan," Lyria simpered up at him. "It has been a very long time since I saw you last, my beloved mate. I have missed you so much. It seems that you and I have rather a lot of catching up to do."

Rowan merely stepped backwards, away from Lyria, taking Aelin with him. His expression was cold as ice, as hard as stone. This cold, uncaring, murderous female was not the woman he had ever though her to be, and he found himself wondering why he had ever been attracted to her in the first place, found himself wondering how he could have ever believed it when he had been manipulated into believing she was his mate. He may once have loved Lyria, but he now hated her guts.

Meanwhile the survivors of Lyria's small army, those who hadn't fallen prey to either Lyria's whims or the rivers, were shifting on their feet uncomfortably, almost unable to believe their eyes and ears. How could she bring herself to flirt when they had just lost the majority of their forces? How could she bring herself to flirt, when they had just watched their friends and comrades drown? Did she truly not understand that Rowan had no interest in her whatsoever? How could she do any of this? For the first time, they truly understood just how much Lyria had used and abused them. That they had been nothing but a means to an end for her. She had used them all. And now hundreds of their comrades had died for her insane quest.

They had suspected much of it, they had known it, and yet the reality of their situation and the extent to which they had been betrayed was still quite distressing for them all. What on earth were they going to do now? Would they be taken prisoner? Or would they be allowed to leave, to find their own way back to Adarlan, their homes, and their families?

"Why on earth would I want to do anything with you, Lyria?" Rowan said, his tone icy cold, colder than the frozen rivers had been by far. "In case you hadn't realised it before, I want _nothing_ to do with you. Any affection I might have had for you died when I realised just how far you were willing to go. The atrocities you have committed in order to win me back leave me cold. You have miscalculated quite badly. I want nothing to do with you whatsoever. Take your remaining men and leave now, before action is taken against you."

"But you don't mean that!" Lyria trilled loudly. "I know you still love me, we are mates after all, you silly goose. I just need to find out what spell that that fire breathing bitch of a queen has used on you, and I'll be able to free you, and when I do, you'll be ever so grateful to me."

"In case you haven't realised, I have a name, and I'm standing right here, you damned idiot," Aelin snapped angrily, beginning to lose her temper. Not only was she unable to believe the audacity of the woman before her, but the way she seemed to single-mindedly focus in on Rowan while ignoring her entirely grated on her nerves.

"Why should I address you when you are nothing but a little whore? Stealing another woman's mate and husband like that… tut, tut, tut," Lyria grinned evilly at her. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, little slut."

"How dare you," Aedion snapped from where he stood by Endymion's side, looking as though he wanted to slap her, to kill her himself. "How dare you insult a reigning monarch to her face? How dare you insult her, when you are the real villain in this sordid tale?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, you stupid little human child," Lyria said haughtily, causing many people to glare at her angrily. It had been more than obvious over the months that her mission to capture Rowan and kill Aelin was born merely out of jealousy alone. They all knew the truth of what was going on, even if Lyria faked ignorance of it.

"You do know what we're talking about, Lyria," Rowan said, sounding completely and utterly exhausted. "You have led many hundreds of men to their deaths, just so you can kill my wife and true mate and win me back. But like I said earlier – you miscalculated. You haven't managed to win me back. I hate you for what you've done these last few months. You thought that Aelin used magic to make me fall in love with her, to make me marry her. But you wrong. Aelin has her ancestor Brannon's fire magic. She does not have the magical ability you think she does, to make someone fall in love. Aelin can't force people to do whatever she wants them to do, the way you can."

Lyria stared at Rowan in express shock. How could he know that about her? She had never told him of her magical gift of compellability. She had never told anyone about it, no one at all. So how had he figured it out? When she had used it on Sam, and then Dorian in turn, it had been the first time she had used her compellability in nearly three hundred years. She hadn't even used it when Rowan was still with her, simply because she hadn't felt the need. She hadn't even used it on Endymion Whitethorn when she attempted to gain information about Rowan from him.

But what was that her Rowan had just said…? Had he just called that bitch not just his mate, but his true mate…? What on earth was he talking about? She was Rowan's true and only mate. Whatever the bitch had told him, it had to have been a lie. And the bitch queen had broken her beloved Rowan so much that he had believed her without question. What on earth had she put Rowan through to make him believe her so easily?

Perhaps she would have her work cut out for her when she attempted to heal Rowan's broken mind. But no matter how hard it was, it would be worth it in the end. She would have her beloved Rowan back in her arms, after all, back where he belonged. And even if the healing was harder than expected, at least her mate would be home with her again. Home again, together in their Doranelle mountain home where they belonged.

"Oh, you have been so thoroughly taken in and hoodwinked that you cannot even see the truth," Lyria shook her head sadly. "You cannot remember that I am your only mate, your real true mate. You cannot see the bitch you hold for the liar, master manipulator and sorceress that she really is. She is not your true mate, Rowan, for I am. Surely you remember all of those happy years that we spent together?"

Rowan, like many of those surrounded them, seemed shocked by what Lyria was saying. Did she truly not know the truth of their faked mating bond? Or did she honestly believe the bullshit that she was spouting? She had one truly sick, twisted mind, and Rowan currently hated her more and more than he ever thought possible.

"You must be even madder than I ever thought you were," Endymion suddenly burst out, unable to hold it in for any longer. "You're completely balmy. Nutty. All those times you cornered me in Doranelle, questioned me for information about Rowan, did you honestly think that I did not figure out who you really were? Did you not think that I would put the pieces together? Did you not think that I would find out about your compellability magic? Because I did. Because I figured out all of your dirty little secrets."

Lyria simply ignored Endymion's words, dismissing his words as trivial, irrelevant, of no great concern. She merely stared intently at Rowan, as though attempting to silently, wordlessly, convince him of her supposed rightness. "Deep down, Rowan, you know that I'm telling the truth," Lyria whispered silkily. "You know that I am your one true mate. You have to believe me. You love me and I love you. We belong together."

"You have to know by now," Rowan said, distaste dripping from his every word, "that I have no wish to be with you anymore. I believed you dead for two hundred years, and eventually I got over my grief and self loathing, and moved on with my life. I met Aelin and fell deeply in love. And it appears you finally moved on and away from me as well."

"I don't know what you mean," Lyria said and for the first time that day she looked genuinely confused. However, many of the men standing around the battlefield were now smirking quite openly. "What do you think you're laughing at?" Lyria yelled suddenly, frustrated at not knowing why she was so abruptly the butt of the joke.

"We're talking about your recent marriage to Dorian Haviliard," Aelin said, more gently than she'd expected to. There was something more than a bit frightening about Lyria's detachment from reality. "I can't speak for how things stand in Doranelle, but in many kingdoms on this continent, bigamy and polygamous marriages are against the law, so I truly hope that you find the happiness you so clearly need with him."

Lyria was so enraged that she could have screamed with frustration. Why were they so intent on keeping Rowan from her? Why couldn't they just admit that Rowan still loved her and for that matter, why couldn't Rowan admit it himself? It made no sense at all to her. They had to be in denial, all of them, unable to accept the truth of the situation.

Lyria didn't realise that she speaking aloud, almost screaming in fact, until Rowan looked at her dispassionately and began to speak. "If you truly don't understand why I no longer love you, Lyria, then I suggest you take a good long look at yourself and your actions over the course of this year first."

And on that note, Rowan took Aelin, and strode off back towards the tent, unable to deal with the stress and drama of it anymore.

Completely ignoring Lyria screaming for him to come back, screaming for him not to treat her like this, that she had spent centuries loving him from afar and why oh why didn't he understand that Dorian meant nothing to her, and that he was the true love of her life.

* * *

They camped where they were that night, by the banks of the Florine River, Lyria and her surviving men being held prisoner, heavily guarded. It wasn't an easy night for any of them by any means. Rowan was still rather distressed by the whole situation, having to face Lyria had been harder for him than he had expected, and was still going over everything that had happened, trying to see what he could have done differently.

However, there was nothing different that could have been different that day, and no matter how much Aelin attempted to comfort him, Rowan still agonised over it.

"Perhaps I could have explained myself differently," Rowan whispered in the quiet confines of their tent. "Perhaps I could have explained better, mentioned how we only ever thought that we were mates because of Maeve's manipulations. Maybe if I had… If only I had known that she still lived… Things might have been different…"

"Yes, things might have gone differently if you had known the truth," Aelin said softly. "But that still doesn't change what she did, Rowan. And sooner or later, Lyria will have to face the fact that she's not your mate, and move on with her life."

"I just can't help but to wonder what would have happened if only Maeve hadn't manipulated us so thoroughly," Rowan said quickly, as though he were unburdening himself.

"But then we would most likely have never met," Aelin said sharply. "Are you saying that you are regretting marrying me, that you regret getting me pregnant?"

"No, of course I'm not saying that!" Rowan exclaimed. "Just that I can't help wondering about the what might have beens."

"And you think I haven't been wondering?" Aelin asked loudly, growing angrier by the minute. "Don't you think I haven't been wondering about what might have happened if I'd known that Sam had lived? What would have happened if Arobynn Hamel hadn't manipulated me so thoroughly? Don't you think I don't wonder what would have happened if I hadn't been send to Endovier? Don't you think that I don't wonder would have happened if my family hadn't been assassinated? Every choice I've made, every decision I've made, good or bad, over the last twelve years has been floating around my head for the last year. And you know what? I don't regret any of it. Because those choices led me here, back to my throne, and more importantly, to you, Rowan."

"I've been fairly stupid, haven't I?" Rowan asked quietly, after a momentary silence. "Because, at the end of the day, I have to face up to the decisions I've made. And so will Lyria, though it seems that she will be loath to admit it."

Aelin gave a soft, sad smile as Rowan took her in his arms, and they held each other all night, wishing that the past could have been different, and hoping for a better future.


	28. Chapter 28

**~28~**

For many of them, it was an almost silent journey back to Orynth. The riverside confrontation, though it had luckily not come to physical blows, had taken an awful lot out of them emotionally and mentally. Despite their mental exhaustion, the delighted pleasure in having Lyria as a prisoner was rampart.

Having the woman who had been threatening their queen all year in their custody provided an almost buoyant atmosphere. Soon, when the trial for the woman and her conspirators was over, life in Terrasen would be able to go back to normal. No more threats of war… No more threats against the royal family… The thought of a job well done… Terrasen now to be forever free…

The one thing that bothered Aelin on the journey was that no matter how bright and undimmed the future of Terrasen now seemed, the future of Adarlan now seemed that bleak. After the atrocities that Adarlan committed during the war, what the southern kingdom had put her homeland through, Aelin couldn't exactly bring herself to be merciful. But at the same time, she was still concerned about the fate of that kingdom.

Even though Dorian had only been supporting Lyria due to the compulsion of her magical influence on him, he had still turned his back on her, his fellow monarch, and that was something that she could not bring herself to forgive. Even before Lyria had gotten her hands on him, Dorian had still abandoned her and Rowan, ignoring the death threats that were being made against his friends. And because of his actions, Dorian was in a pickle of his own making. As much as Aelin hated to admit it, Dorian was likely going to spend the rest of his life in prison, or be executed for his actions these last few months, and in spite of their broken friendship, a part of Aelin sorrowed for the young man she had once called friend.

Despite her rather negative view of Adarlan, Aelin was still very much aware that the kingdom would still need to have a future – even if that future meant that Adarlanian territory would be cut up and split between the neighbouring kingdoms.

"What are you thinking about, Aelin?" Aelin jumped in her saddle at the sound of Aedion's voice. "Now, I don't want you to go round thinking about Dorian and Lyria until the trial starts. I know the aftershocks of this will ripple around the world for years after this, but we can worry about it after the trial, not before. Right now, I want you focusing on your relationship Rowan and the child you're having. After everything that has happened over the last few weeks, I'm honestly surprised that the child hasn't decided to arrive early."

"If I'm telling the truth, Aedion," Aelin replied, "I don't think there will be much longer to wait."

"All the more reason to get back to Orynth soon," Aedion said firmly.

Aelin simply nodded in agreement, for Aedion was right, in more ways than one. Whatever was going to happen in the future was going to happen, and no amount of worrying about the future would make it come any faster. Despite her concerns about what was going to happen in Lyria and Dorian's trial and what may happen afterwards, it was time for her to relax and enjoy her life, for the first time since she was eight years old. Now, at nearly twenty one years old, she felt that she was finally able to understand what true happiness was.

Aelin smiled to herself as she spurred her horse forward to ride at Rowan's side. Life was starting to look good for once, after a lifetime of chaos and uncertainty. It was time for her to face the last of her demons and forge her own future.

As Rowan turned in his saddle to smile a happy smile at her, Aelin knew in that moment that her future was destined to be at his side for eternity. She could hardly wait to finally hold her child in her arms at last.

* * *

Trapped in the heavily guarded prison wagon at the back of the caravan, Lyria was completely and absolutely livid. Standing on her toes to see out of the tiny window, she could just barely see the bitch riding beside Rowan, saw him reach out between their horses to take her hand. It seemed that the bitch hadn't understood anything from their confrontation earlier, if she hadn't yet lifted the spell she had woven over Rowan. Hadn't understood that Rowan did not belong to her.

But Lyria was still deluding herself into thinking that she would be exonerated at the coming trial. And once she was, and the bitch's child was born, well, then Lyria would have her final revenge. Taking the child away from her, so that it would be raised by Rowan and Lyria alone…

Lyria was sure that the bitch would surely die of heartbreak at being separated from her only child, and then Lyria would not have to do anything at all. For Lyria would no longer be a clear suspect in the bitch's death, and her child would never remember her. Lyria would be the only mother the child would know, and Rowan would learn to be happy with her again.

Locked in the same prison wagon as Lyria, Dorian took a more pessimistic view of the situation. He knew, deep down Dorian knew that he was only in the situation he was in because of Lyria. Because she had tricked him into marrying her, and she had enspelled him to destroy the lives of his friend. Even while under the influence of Lyria's magic, Dorian was still aware that he had failed to stop her while he was still free to do so. In that moment Dorian was well aware of his failings and knew that he had failed to assist Aelin and Rowan out of mere jealousy.

Dorian was finally able to admit to himself, that he had been jealous of all of them, of his friends. Jealous of the happiness they had found with their partners, jealous of the happiness and responsibility that parenthood had brought. Had been struck with the utmost jealousy at the thought of being left behind and forgotten.

Perhaps that had been why he had attempted to force his relationship with Manon, rushing into the engagement when it was more than evident that she was not ready for such a commitment and was perhaps even thinking of leaving him. Dorian wasn't blind, after all. He had seen the way Athril looked at Manon, the way Manon had looked at Athril, and had known that she was thinking of leaving him. And the mere thought of that had been too much for him to bear.

So when Dorian had finally snapped and refused all of Aelin's and Rowan's requests to help them deal with Lyria, he had been exactly vulnerable enough to make him easy prey for her. And that was something that he truly hated himself for. If only he had been stronger, then maybe none of this would have happened. His jealousy and vulnerability had brought about the destruction of his kingdom. And that was something Dorian was never going to forgive himself for. Never.

Not that Dorian would have long to reconcile himself to the truth of what had happened. For one, he was still magically bound to Lyria and would likely remain so for the rest of his life. For second, Dorian was well aware that the rest of his life would not be very long. For his actions, for his betrayal of his allies and friends, for his part in Lyria's plots, willing or unwilling, Dorian was well aware that he would either spend the rest of his life in prison or be executed.

If Dorian were to die, his sole regret was the fate of his kingdom. Instead of stepping up and accepting responsibility for the fate of his kingdom and people the way Aelin had, he had resented the responsibility. He had seen it more as an obligation – a noose around his neck, a blade hovering over his neck, ready to strike at any given second. And not wanting the duty and accountability that had been handed down from his ancestors, he had let his bitterness and antipathy grow, until he was of no use to anyone but Lyria. He owed Adarlan more than he had been able to give it.

And in that moment, as Dorian made his final journey to Orynth, his final wish, his final hope for a better future was that whoever it was that ascended to the throne of Adarlan after him was someone who was worthy of the title of king the way he never was. And so with that hope in his heart, he was able to ignore Lyria's endlessly self serving prattle, her endless ranting and raving and prepare himself to meet his end.

* * *

Rowan smiled to himself as the walls of Orynth slowly became visible in the distance. As long as Aelin was by his side, he reflected, he was always going know where home was. For his home was wherever she was. And for the first time since he had heard the news of Lyria's supposed death two centuries before, he truly felt happy in a way he didn't think he had ever been.

Of course he still missed his family back in Doranelle, but Aelin and the child that was due any day now were just as much his family now. And if Lyria was bitter because she was unable to realise just how much happier he was without her now that he had finally moved on with his life and accepted her 'death', than calling her a damn fool was putting it mildly. Even more so now that Aelin, their baby and Terrasen in general were his home.

He desperately wished that Maeve had never manipulated him and Lyria into thinking they were ever mates, but as Aelin had reminded him after the confrontation, no amount of wishing could change the past. You just had to accept it, and do what you could to change the future. That was what really mattered.

Though it was with a heavy heart that he faced the walls of Orynth this time, hoping that the castle and city guards had the preparations in place for the trial and for holding Lyria and Dorian prisoner in the castle dungeons until then.

Despite himself, despite how much he had grown to hate Lyria over the last year, he still hated the idea of her and Dorian being their prisoners. Rowan had, at one stage truly cared about Lyria and he had grown to truly care about Dorian as a friend. He had never thought that he would one day be presiding over their trial.

And despite what Aelin said about her friendship with Dorian being over, he knew that she still cared about him in her way, even if she refused to show it, refused to admit it to anyone, not even to herself. Deep down, despite Aelin appearing to be coping quite well, he was worried truly worried about how the stress from the trial would affect her.

But despite everything, despite the chaos and nightmare they were living through, Rowan looked over at his Aelin and was truly happy. He could hardly wait until their baby was born, could hardly wait to meet the child that was the product of their love.

* * *

Chaol waited anxiously at the gates of Orynth castle, flanked on either side by Athril and Manon, as well as several of the older Terrasenite lords who were too old and unfit to travel to the battlefield.

Chaol had merely not wanted to travel to their selected battlefield, not knowing if he was strong enough to face Dorian again, not after what had happened. Yes, Chaol was willing to admit to himself that his abandonment of Dorian, his defection, had probably left Dorian bitter and angry, therefore all the more open to Lyria's manipulations. Yes, Chaol was perfectly well aware that his old friend had only killed his father while under the influence of Lyria's magic. But Chaol didn't know if he could bring himself to forgive Dorian for it. Chaol had attempted to accept what had happened, but was still struggling to move past it. Spending what time he could with Aelin, Aedion, Rowan, Yrene and their child always managed to boost his spirits, he had found, however.

He didn't know if he was strong enough to face Dorian on that battlefield. He didn't know if he was strong enough to face Dorian know. In all honestly, Chaol still didn't know if he was strong enough to face Dorian now that he was most likely a prisoner.

Athril hadn't wanted to go south to the battlefield either, Chaol knew, due to his depression and sense of self loss, of self-failure. However, Chaol had noticed that Athril's depression had been getting somewhat better recently. He'd been spending less time locked up alone in his room, more time with Manon Blackbeak and the Thirteen, talking to those around him a little more. Chaol hoped that Athril found some measure of peace and acceptance.

When it came to Manon, however, Chaol didn't know why she had decided to remain behind. He again suspected that it likely had something to do with her broken engagement to Dorian. Despite Manon's and Athril's fledgling relationship, he felt that it would likely be too hard for her to face Dorian, especially now that he was technically '_married'_ to Lyria.

"What do you think happened? We haven't heard anything yet," Athril said eventually, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"From what Endymion was telling me, I highly doubt that it came to a battle," Darrow said slowly, clearly tense. "It sounds somewhat as though Lyria has somewhat of a hero complex, if you can call it that. So I would think it would presumably be fairly easy to capture both her and Dorian, simply because Lyria is too arrogant to think that she could be caught and punished for her actions."

Silence descended upon them again, even more tense and uncomfortable than before. "Despite myself, I don't like the thought of Dorian being held prisoner," Manon said quietly. "Both Chaol and I used to care about Dorian, after all, and there is still the future of Adarlan to be considered. We still have to be mindful of that."

"If King Dorian had truly cared about his kingdom and his people, he would never have allied himself with Lyria, magic spell or not," Darrow said more sharply than he had intended to.

Manon just looked down at her feet, surprising Chaol by accepting the rebuke. Chaol was again surprised by Athril wrapping his arm comfortingly around Manon's shoulders. Manon simply leaned into the contact, starting to smile slightly.

That smile started to slip, however, as movement was finally spotted in the distance. The return of the army, most likely with Lyria and Dorian in tow in the prison wagon that Aelin had once spent weeks in on her way to the Endovier slave mines. For the first time Chaol wondered how she had felt, knowing what was to come.

"They're coming," Darrow said unnecessarily.

Chaol swallowed harshly at the words. Now the hard part began. Now he would have to sit back and watch as his old friend was tried for his crimes. He would have to sit back and watch as he was sentenced to either life imprisonment or execution. He just wanted this whole mess to be over and done with. He watched in silence as Aelin and Rowan came into view at last.


	29. Chapter 29

**~29~**

Deep in the dungeon cells beneath the castle of Orynth, the three prisoners immured there were unaware of what had been happening up above at ground level these last few days. They were completely unaware that witnesses being called, depositions were being prepared for their trial, which was due to begin any day now.

However, none of them noticed the passage of time much anymore or lack of guards bringing food, mainly due to the fact that none of the on duty guards could stand being down there due to the constant screaming matches that were all too frequently held.

For now that Lyria had finally begun to relax her magical hold over Sam Cortland, he was simply growing angrier and angrier with her with every passing hour. He didn't understand why Lyria hadn't freed him from her clutches earlier. Sam was completely and utterly convinced that if he had been set free earlier, than he would have been better able to accomplish his goal, and even earlier than Lyria would have.

Their whole goal had been to win back the loves of their lives, had it not? And yet, all of Lyria's plotting and scheming had come to nothing. She had not managed to bring his Celaena back to him, had not even managed to win back her own lost love. Yet Sam was beyond certain that if he had been the architect of their planning, he would have been able to win back his Celaena months earlier. He was convinced of it, and refused to hear of any other alternative.

Sam was furious about the wasted months, months in which he could have had Celaena back in his arms and taken her back to Adarlan with him to resume their lives together. Sam strongly believed that if he had just been able to take that Fae bastard his woman had supposedly given her heart to out of the picture, than she would have come happily back to him.

Sam couldn't give a damn about Terrasen or its people, all he cared about, all he had ever cared about, was his beloved Celaena, for she would never be Aelin to him, she would always be the same old Celaena to him. He didn't give a damn if she felt she had a responsibility to her supposed husband or their child or her people or her kingdom. Once Celaena was back in his arms, she would once again fall in love with him, and it would be just like the old days, back when they were children. Back when they were young and in love, and the world was at their feet.

For in Sam's eyes, that was nothing to the responsibility that she owed to him. He didn't give a damn if she had thought him dead for the last four years, she still should have instinctively known the truth. Celaena had known what Arobynn Hamel was like, she should have been able to realise the truth – should have realised that he was still alive.

The fact of it was that he believed that Celaena should be with him, and he was willing to do whatever it took to win her back. Once he got her back, he would let her give birth, but then he would force her to give the child to its father and Lyria. They would be more than willing to look after the child, he was sure.

And after that, Celaena would be able to finally begin her new life with him, a new life for both of them. A new life that they clearly both so desperately needed.

But at the moment, he was just angry and pissed off that he hadn't seen Celaena since he had arrived in the city, and even more angry and even more pissed off that he had been locked in a dungeon cell for the entirety of his stay there so far. He was beyond furious that his Celaena had given the order for it, and she would have to be punished for it once he managed to free himself and her. There were so many things that he would have to punish his Celaena for, no matter how much the thought sickened him. Celaena was his first and only love, they belonged together forever, and because of that, he hated the thought of punishing her, but he would if he had to.

But Lyria refused to heart any of his objections. Sam was infuriated by Lyria's complete faith, her complete confidence in her own pathetic plans. He was completely enraged by her complete lack of interest in anything and everything that didn't have to do with her.

In Lyria's mind, Sam's estrangement from Celaena did not have anything to do with her, so she was not interested by it. All she cared about, it seemed, was winning back that stupid Fae bastard of hers. Sam had to wonder if that had been her plan all along. Use and swindle him to get what she wanted, and once she had what she wanted, to then abandon him to whatever fate had in store for him.

On the other hand, Lyria couldn't understand what Sam was so worked up about. As far as she was concerned, the very moment her plans came through, and she constantly assured Sam they would, he would have his precious Celaena back. And much more importantly to her, she would have her darling Rowan back as well.

Lyria flat out refused to believe it when Sam told her that he hated and blamed her for being locked up in those dungeon cells_. What on earth was the stupid boy thinking when he came up with that conclusion, _Lyria thought angrily. It was blatantly obvious that it was all his own damn fault! If only Sam hadn't been so foolhardy, so stupid and gullible, than none of them would have been captured in the first place!

All Sam had had to do in the first place, was gain the trust of her darling Rowan and the pathetic little two-bit whore. It should have been an easy task for him, right? Dead wrong! It all would have gone a lot better for them in the first place if Sam had just kept his mouth shut and not insulted anybody. It's not as though that were a particularly difficult thing to do for most people! It should have been a fairly easy task for most people!

During the time of her incarceration the only thing that Lyria had come to regret was using Sam Cortland as an ally. Lyria had so wound up in her problems that she had failed to see just how broken and battered Sam had been when she had found him. She had failed to see that in his mental state, he was of no use to anyone, least of all to her. But she had so desperate to find an ally who knew this wretched continent, that she had forgotten to shop around. Instead, she had just accepted the first ally that she had found and completely disregarded his broken mental state. Had disregarded the fact that he would not be a reliable, or even decent, accomplice for her to have.

In all honesty, Sam Cortland had been a fairly useless ally to her. He had failed to ingratiate himself with his targets, had gotten himself – and eventually her – locked up in a dungeon cell, had instantly vetoed any plan of hers that meant a quick and easy victory. He had been irritating, maddening and infuriating, had constantly questioned her. And by the way that Sam Cortland had jumped and gone scuttling the moment that Athril had snapped his fingers, he had been quite eager to get away from her for quite some time before that.

But still, Lyria mused, trusting Sam Cortland had not been a _complete_ failure. It was his failures that had gotten her here to Rowan in the end, hadn't it?

Yes, it had brought them together in the end, even if not in the way she had expected. But she supposed that Rowan would soon realise the mistakes he had made and allow her out of the dungeons. She hated it in these pathetic dungeon cells. She knew that she didn't really belong there, and Rowan would realise it soon.

He would realise what a mistake he had made all those centuries ago and come back to her. Her constant proximity would surely bring him out of whatever fog, whatever enchantment that bitch queen had placed over him. He would fall in love with her all over again, they were true soul mates, no one would ever be able convince her otherwise. It was impossible to fake or manipulate a real and true mating bond.

And so, as Lyria and Sam continued to believe in their own warped versions of what had happened they continued to argue over it. Argue over who was really in the right, over who was the one who deserved to be allowed out of the dungeons more, over who deserved to be with their lost love more.

It was no small wonder that the guards tended to avoid the section of the dungeon cells that they currently occupied, and when they did, they quickly reported the ever increasing volume of the prisoners' arguments, their stubborn idiocy and the continued strength of their ironclad convictions and beliefs, as well as what they believed was the beginning of the two prisoners disintegration.

As the arguments continued to swell in volume and become all the more all-consuming, it became easier and easier to ignore, and almost forget about the third prisoner in the cells. For Dorian Haviliard was indeed still there, slowing being driven mad by the ignorance and forgetfulness of the guards and by the road of absolute craziness and nuttiness that was Sam Cortland and his supposed wife, Lyria.

As Dorian's mind slowly broke, he was filled with the regrets of the past year, of which there was many. He regretted ignoring the rumours about the threats against his friends, Aelin and Rowan. He regretted not doing more to help them. He regretted not doing more to help them. Dorian regretted allowing his beloved fiancée, Manon, to slip through his fingers. Dorian regretted being sucked in and drawn in by Lyria's lies.

All of Dorian's life, he had hated and despised his father. The last thing he had ever wanted was to one day act like and become his father. And yet, to Dorian's utmost horror, in the last year, that was exactly what he had become. To Dorian's utter disgust and revulsion, he had started to become his villainous father, without even the excuse or the justification of being infested by the Valg demons at the time.

There was so much that Dorian regretted so much, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing he could do in order to fix it. He so desperately wished there was, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing.

Finally alone in the silence of his own mind, Dorian vaguely wondered why Lyria had lessoned her influence over Sam Cortland's mind, but not his own. One would think that she would show some mercy at least to her husband, whether or not she even liked him. For Dorian was very well aware of the level of his supposed wife's antipathy for him.

Despite his fracturing mind, Dorian was still aware of the antipathy of the guards bringing his food and water. He couldn't find it in himself to blame them. He had the last several spent months plotting the murder of their Queen and the destruction of their kingdom, after all. If he were in their shoes, he would be beyond furious with himself as well. In fact, Dorian _was_ furious with himself. He blamed himself for everything. He should have seen better, known better, somehow.

Dorian wondered what would happen to him now. Would it be life imprisonment, or death? How ironic, it seemed, for his father to have once held Aelin's future in his hands, to have sentenced her to the slave mines of Endovier as Celaena Sardothien. And now, it was Aelin herself who held his fate, his continued existence in her hands. He wondered what she would decide.

He felt that he would more than deserve it if she decided to have him executed.

Dorian felt himself wondering why there had been no news of their fates yet. All of this sitting around in a dungeon cell, waiting, wasn't exactly helping his state of mind. If you even thought that he still had much of a mind left.

He found himself wishing that Sam and Lyria would just stop screaming their heads off. As far as he was concerned, they were both at fault for this. They deserved the fate that was going to be dealt them as much as he did. In fact, as the instigators of this whole debacle, Dorian felt that they deserved it far more than he did.

Dorian hated Lyria. It was as plain and simple as that. He hated the woman that he had supposedly married. He couldn't stand her self-absorption, her arrogance, her unerring belief in her own rightness. Her belief that she was the only one whose opinion mattered, her willingness to murder in cold blood, her willingness to destroy ancient cultures and kingdoms simply in order to get what she wanted… A distant pipedream of a goal that would never come to fruition…

In his opinion, Lyria should just accept the fact that Rowan no longer loved her, and move on with her life. Besides, Rowan had spent the last two centuries, believing Lyria was dead – brutally murdered. After that, no one could really blame him for forging a new life for himself. He couldn't understand Lyria's continual obsession, not after all these years.

And as for Sam Cortland, Dorian couldn't stand him either. Dorian was aware that he had spent the last few years as a prisoner in the Assassin's Guild. But despite the years of imprisonment, Sam Cortland was too proud, too arrogant. Just by looking at him, and talking to him, you wouldn't have thought that he was a victim of abuse at all. You wouldn't have thought that he had spent years as a slave, virtually locked up in a cellar.

Now, after being locked up in a dungeon cell, Sam Cortland's behaviour had barely changed at all from the spoiled, arrogant young man he had been while he was free. Free or imprisoned, Sam was still the exact same person. He was still a spoiled, arrogant, young brat. Dorian hated the boy's guts intensely. In fact he wished that Sam Cortland would simply vanish from his life.

In fact, Dorian couldn't even begin to understand why Aelin Galathynius, as Celaena Sardothien, had ever fallen in love with Sam Cortland in the first place. He was aware that Aelin had grieved for him when she thought him dead, but it seemed apparent that he was not the type of young man that would hold her heart for eternity. She may have loved him at sixteen, at seventeen years of age, but even if she had known that he lived, she would have moved on from him and fallen in love with someone else anyway.

But, much the same as Lyria, Sam Cortland was far too much of a fool to ever be able to see it. Perhaps because of the years of imprisonment, Dorian thought that Sam Cortland's mind was still the mind of a spoilt, stuck up, teenage boy, not the mind of a young man.

Sam and Lyria were like extremely selfish children to him. Aelin and Rowan were the adults that they would never be.

Now, at the last, Dorian finally allowed himself to think of the fate of his kingdom. He was aware that there were many across the kingdoms that his father had conquered, and Aelin had freed, that would want Adarlanian territory to be split up between the neighbouring kingdoms. That being Fenharrow and Melisande to the south, and possibly even Terrasen to the north, though he did not know if Aelin would sanction it. Knowing Manon the way he did, it seemed unlikely to him that the Witch Kingdom would snap up any Adarlanian land.

But now, at long last, Dorian wanted a different fate for his kingdom. He wanted Adarlan to thrive under a different ruler. Under a different monarch – a much better monarch than either he or his father would ever or could ever be – he was sure that Adarlan would not just survive, but begin to thrive.

And that different king would not be Dorian's younger brother, Hollin. Hollin would be the absolute worst ruler in Adarlan's thousand year history. Hollin would be a complete nightmare if he gained the throne. A spoilt child like Hollin would never, could never ever make a good king.

No, Dorian knew who he wanted to ascend to Adarlan's throne after he exited this world. He wanted someone who was steadfast and loyal, who would do what he felt it took to ensure Adarlan to thrive. He wanted someone like Chaol Westfall to become Adarlan's next king. Yes, if he was given a say in who would govern Adarlan after him, he would give Chaol Westfall his dying voice. It was only what seemed right to him.

* * *

As the chaos in the dungeons continued to unfold, disorder and confusion unfolded in the palace above. A different sort of chaos, happy, yet slightly stressed at the same time, as Rowan paced outside the front doors to his and Aelin's palace suite, waiting for her to give birth. It felt like he had been waiting for hours on end already. Why was it taking so long? Was it normal for a birth to take so long? He had no idea, and it was taking so long.

Suddenly there was one last cry coming from the bedroom, and finally, at long last, the sound of a newborn baby's wail. Shortly after came another wail. _Two_ babies? Twins? Was such a thing even possible?

"By the gods!" came the sound of the midwife's voice. "A prince and princess to secure our kingdom's future for the next generation!"

Rowan felt his heart soar. He couldn't wait to embrace his mate and wife and meet his son and daughter for the very first time.


	30. Chapter 30

**~30~**

Chaos erupted in the palace halls just a day or two after the birth of the twins. Knowing just how loyal Elide was to Aelin, she and Rowan had decided to appoint her as the twins' nursemaid.

Predictably, the appointment had caused quite a stir once it had gotten out. To Aelin and Rowan's utmost surprise, many of the older lords were more than accepting of the decision, knowing just how close the two young women were.

But not to their surprise, Lorcan was less than happy about it. He was still convinced that Aelin would soon free him from his vows to her. And he was still just as convinced that Aelin would allow Elide to leave with him, so totally convinced that Elide would want to leave Aelin's service in order to make him happy. It was apparent to many around them that Lorcan understood his wife as little as she understood him.

Elide and Lorcan's love for one another had seemed so intense during the war, so all consuming that many had thought that their love was as strong as Rowan's and Aelin's, and was as enduring. But the stress caused by the war and the stresses caused by the aftermath of the war, ordinary everyday life had gotten in the way and they had changed beyond almost all recognition. The war had changed them. The war had changed everything.

Neither Elide nor Lorcan were the same people that they used to be before the war. They had changed so much in the months since to the extent that they barely knew who the other person was. And what they now found in each other was something that they hated. Something that they now found themselves despising.

What confused Lorcan the most, what he hated the most, was his wife's refusal to understand – or to even listen to – his side of the story. He hated the fact that Elide was so stubbornly supporting Aelin, hated the fact that Elide was so close to her queen. He refused to understand the friendship between the two young women, the burdens they carried, the guilt they carried at losing their families, at not being able to do more to save them. Lorcan did not understand it, and refued to even try.

Instead of even attempting to understand his wife's friendship, Lorcan scorned it. He thought that Elide, as his wife, should be dependent only on him. That his wife should obey his every command. Lorcan had a stick shoved so far up his ass, that he thought he had the right to dictate to his wife how she lived her life, without even understand or acknowledging just how wrong that was. Unable to realise that a marriage should be a true partnership of mutual love and respect, and not a dictarorship. Perhaps, in a way, it was Lorcan's upbringing on the streets of Doranelle that made him so cold, so completely heartless. Perhaps the reason why Lorcan was so unabl to understand what it meant to love someone was because his own childhood had been so totally deprived of love and happiness.

Elide, on the other hand, had long since been growing weary of Lorcan's behaviour. Ever since the war ended, and they had finally married, Lorcan had grown beyond controlling. Was sick of the way he treated her, the way he acted as though she were unable to think for herself. What Elide hated the most was the fact that Lorcan treated her like a possession, the fact that he treated her like a china doll half the time. Hated the fact that he barely let her have her own opinions or make her own decisions.

Oh, in public Lorcan would make a show of deferring to her opinions and decisions, but it was just that, a show. It was as though Lorcan became a different person when they were alone, unable or unwilling to accept that any influence he had in Perranth, in Terrasen was due solely to the fact of his marriage. Unable or unwilling to accept the fact that he held no real power, unable or unwilling to face the fact that people only tolerated him for Elide's sake. And for someone who was so used to having power, used to being in control, that was a nightmare that Lorcan was unable to accept.

It was amusing to see the fued escalate between the previously happily married couple, but it also caused tension in the royal household. The most casual remark, the barest glance in the wrong direction could create an explosion.

While Elide was dealing with the situation calmly and rationally, Lorcan was attempting to manipulate the situation in his favour while failing miserably.

All Lorcan cared about was maintaining what he perceived as the status quo, with him getting whatever he wanted with Elide obeying his every command. Unable to see that change was in the air Lorcan snapped and snarled and glared at anyone who suggested that he step back and allow Elide to live her own life without. In fact, it was quickly getting to the point that Lorcan was glaring and snarling at anyone who even suggested the fact that Elide would clearly be so much happier without him in her life.

On the other hand, Elide was moving quietly and smoothly through the proper legal channels to secure the divorce she needed so desperately for the sake of her own sanity. Lorcan had his head so far up his own butt that he was unable to see reason.

Needless to say, many courtiers were quickly jumping on the 'get Lorcan out of Orynth' bandwagon. They had always hated Lorcan and, like Aelin, had only put up with him for Elide's sake. The sheer amount of gossip that was going around the court about the scandal was astounding. It seemed that, apart from the coming trial, that it was the sole topic of conversation.

"I can't belive just how quickly that it's all fallen apart between them," Chaol murmured softly to Fenrys that evening.

"I know," Fenrys said, "but I guess they just got used to hiding what was wrong. Besides, Elide has always been a cunning little thing. Lorcan's never realised it, but he has more than found his match in Elide. She's not going to take any of his bullcrap lying down for long. Never was."

"In that context, I suppose that it got to be too much for the poor girl," Chaol murmured. "I'm honestly surprised that Elide stuck it out this long. I suppose love does funny things to a person, especially a young woman. I never thought that Lorcan was the right man for Elide, I just hope that the next man Elide falls in love with is a better man."

"Better not let Lorcan hear you say that," Fenrys laughed. "He'll start screaming and shouting at you like there's no tomorrow. It's not funny when Lorcan explodes in a temper. Times like that make me wish that I never met Lorcan. It's downright frightening, if I'm being honest."

Suddenly a voice came out of the gloom of the stairwell behind them. "Are you sure you ought to be gossiping about other people's misfortunes like this? It's always quite distressing whenever a loving marriage breaks down. Have either of you even thought about Elide, and what she must be going through? Oh, Elide seems to be holding it together, seems to be staying strong, but deep down, that poor girl is struggling with it all. Struggling to reconcile herself with the break up of her marriage. Struggling to accept that the male she fell in love with, the male she married, is no longer the male she thought he was." And as he finished his little speech, Athril stepped out of the shadows of the gloomy stairwell and into the light of the stunningly bright, sunlit palace corridor.

"Oh, come on, Athril, there's no rules about not being allowed to talk about it," Chaol snapped, annoyed. "You haven't been acting like yourself since you returned to Orynth. But the situation is over, Sam Cortland, Dorian Haviliard and Lyria are all currently residing in the palace dungeons. They are all awating trial, and even you must know what the most likely verdict will be. I may have been willing to put up with your stupidly petty behaviour before, but I will not do so any longer. Grow up Athril, get over yourself. The world does not revolve around you. It will never do so."

And on that note, Chaol stormed off angrily. Fenrys simply picked himself up off the floor, shook his head sadly and followed after Chaol on near silent feet.

Athril sank to his knees, crouched on the final step and rested his head in his hands. He knew his behaviour these last few months had been unlike him, he knew that he had not been himself, but had he really been so bad? Had he really been so horrible that no one could stand to be around him? Yet he knew that his mental health had been slowly getting better. And yet Athril knew that it may very well take some time to regain their trust, after all that had happened in the last year.

* * *

The day of the trial finally arrived. Dorian was fairly lucid and seemed resigned to whatever fate was in store for him. Sam and Lyria, on the other hand were convinced that this was the day on which their lost loves would realise their love for them still lived and come back to them. Neither Dorian nor the guards escorting them had neither the heart nor the nerve to tell them the truth of what the near future would most likely bring for them. The fate that was in store for them all.

As they were escorted to the crowded Great Hall, Dorian was not the only one who was unnerved by the sheer amount of guards lining the corridors or the sheer hatred and animosity in the eyes and faces of those watching them. It was nothing that Dorian hadn't expected, but it was still quite discomforting. Not something that he was used to. No, he was used to being adored, not hated.

"I don't know why they all seem to despise us so much," Lyria said haughtily, adjusting her heavy, jangling, iron manacles as though they were the finest of lace and silk gloves. "I would have thought that they would be a bit more accommodating, a bit more welcoming."

"Well, our arrival does indeed symbolise a rather large change in their public and societal structure," Sam said, in rather a snobby tone of voice. "Of course they fear and hate us for that. People are nothing if not predictable. There is nothing that brings us together more than hating someone."

Lyria smirked to herself upon hearing Sam's words, but then the smirk quickly faded, snapping her head suddnely to the side in order to glare at Dorian. "I don't see you trying to secure our future, in any way, shape or form," she said snappily. "I don't see you attempting to figure out how to gain our goals at last, dearest Dorian. As my husband, you should be more supportive of my goals."

Dorian felt a faint tug at his mind and found himself agreeing with Lyria, despite the fact that he disagreed quite vehemently indeed. Despite the fact that he was perfectly well aware that she did not want him for her husband. Despite the fact that he knew perfectly well that to Lyria, he was only a pawn in her games. Despite the fact that he was perfectly well aware that Lyria wanted someone entirely different for her husband. Despite knowing all of that, Dorian found himself agreeing with the little bitch. And in that moment he hated Lyria more than ever. He was going to die for her, just as the men who had followed them had died for her.

As they reached the Great Hall and the doors swung open, Dorian's anxious nerves increased. Despite knowing what was abouit to happen, Dorian was scared, he was beyond terrified actually. Feeling his heart begin to pound, he tried desperately calm himself.

As the guards dragged the three of them to the chained seats in which they were to seat themselves during the proceedings, Dorian couldn't help but to spot some familiar faces in the crowed. There, he noted, was his old friend Chaol… Of course Chaol had come to Orynth immediately after he had left Rifthold. Chaol had opposed his inaction when it came to the threats Lyria had been making against Rowan and Aelin. So it was hardly a surprise that he had come here, to do what he could to actually make a difference, Dorian supposed. Chaol had followed his heart, and done what he believed was right. How on earth had he actually believed it when Chaol had said that he intended to go home to Annielle? Chaol had always hated his hather, hated Annielle. Did Chaol know that his father was dead, and at his hand? Would Chaol forever hate and blame him for it now? Would Chaol ever be able to find it in himself to forgive him for it?

And there was Athril. For some reason, Dorian was actually more surprised to see Athril than he was to see Chaol, though he didn't really know why. There was a line from a history lesson Aelin had given him once floating through his head for some reason. Something about Athril, though he couldn't remember the exact words… Of course! There it was! _Athril, dearest friend of Brannon Galathynius_… Though how on earth Athril was still alive after all these centuries, Dorian couldn't even begin to fathom, of course that being if it were indeed the same Athril. No wonder the man was so loyal to Terrasen and to Aelin. It was a loyalty to Brannon that kept Athril at Aelin's side, serving her with the same loyalty that he had served Brannon.

Finally, Dorian looked up and saw Aelin standing with Rowan and several of her highest ranking lords and nobles at the Great Table of the Great Hall. For some reason, one of the first things he noticed about Aelin in that moment was that she was no longer pregnant. She must have had had the child in the days since he'd been in the dungeons with Sam and Lyria, since she had returned to the city. Deep down, Dorian felt a flicker of happiness for her. He wondered whether the child was a boy or a girl, wondered what name Aelin and Rowan would decide to give the child.

Glancing at Sam and Lyria out of the corner of his eye, Dorian saw that they noticed the changes in Aelin, realising that they knew, that they had managed to figure out that she must have given birth to her child already. Surely they must know that with the birth, the status of Aelin and Rowan's marriage was stronger and more solid than ever before. Right now, they either knew or were finally only just starting to realise that Aelin and Rowan would never return to them in their lifetimes, nor in any other lifetime. That Aelin and Rowan had each other now and their newborn baby and had no need of them, their past loves, their past lives.

They had truly lost the only people they had ever truly loved, and were only just beginning to realise it.

If only they had begun to realise this earlier, it would have saved a whole lot of trouble and heartbreak for them. The despair and anguish written over their faces as Lord Weylan Darrow began the proceedings began was a story in itself. Two separate tales of sorrow that they were only just beginning to realise would be leading shortly to their deaths, as well as the deaths of the many good men who had followed them. The many good men who had marched north under Adarlan's banner, under the threat of death. Under the threat of being murdered by Lyria, or by him. They had died because of them. They had died for them.

As the proceedings continued and Dorian continued to watch the merciless faces of the lords judging him, he continued to grow even more frightened than he already was, growing ever more convinced that he was going to die. And for the first time, Dorian truly understood how Aelin must have felt when she faced his father at her trial, when she was sentenced to Endovier. If she had then felt even a fraction of the fear he that felt now…

The rest of the trial passed in a daze and Dorian was barely aware of what people were saying, was barely aware of the evidence being presented, knowing only that it would be beyond compelling. Luckoly for him, it was all over rather quickly. And the result was the one that he had expected. They were all sentenced to die.

And at that, Lyria exploded in a fit of rage, screaming. "Don't let me die, Rowan," she shrieked. "You know you really belong with me, not that bitch up there. You love me, you belong with me, and you know it. So will you please finally see reason and return home to me?" Rowan merely stared the female before him down coldly. He had no wish to speak to her ever again.

Sam Cortland, on the other hand, simply sank back in his seat, defeated. He knew he had gambled everything, and had lost. And he no longer had any will to live, knowing that he had truly lost the only reason he had left to continue to live.

Lyria's and Sam's shock, and pain, and anguish, and despair only grew more pronounced when Lord Darrow announced that Aelin had given birth to twins – a boy and a girl, two healthy, happy, thriving babies. Dorian wished Aelin and Rowan and their newborn children nothing but happiness and a bright, shining future.

* * *

The last days of their lives passed quickly and quietly in the dungeon cells beneath the palace of Orynth. While Dorian attempted to reconcile himself to his coming death, Sam and Lyria still found themselves whining that Aelin and Rowan owed them better than that. The two of them still believed that they would be granted a last minute pardon, despite the evidence and the knowledge to the contrary – that they would die hated and unforgiven by all who knew them. Dorian suspected that their mistaken belief arouse out of a fear of their approaching death sentences. Not that he could blame them, despite his peace at his approaching death, Dorian still feared the death as well.

The day of the executions arrived. Dorian felt a sense of peace that he had never before felt as they were led out of the dungeons for the last time. He was ready to face his end. As Dorian was forced to watch as first Lyria and then Sam Cortland meet their deaths, he watched the crowd out of the corner of his eye. He noticed Aelin and Rowan standing at the back of the crowed, surrounded by friends and those who were as close as family to them.

Then Dorian felt the noose settling round his neck, felt the rope snapping tight and knew no more.


	31. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

For Aelin and Rowan, the years after the whole debacle with Sam Cortland and Lyria were a lot more peaceful on the whole for them. They dedicated themselves to Terrasen and its people, rebuilding the kingdom after the Valg war, and the chaos and destruction that Lyria and Sam had brought.

That's not to say that their lives were easy, for life was nover going to be simple for them. Over the years there were other people who wanted to take advantage, other people who attempted to put them out of the picture, other people who wanted them dead. But there were none who ever came as close as Lyria and Sam had that time. None that ever managed to breach Terrasen's borders, or the security of the palace of Orynth.

Despite the threats that stemmed from many different sources, they were dealt with quickly, and for the most part, Aelin and Rowan were happy. Terrasen grew and thrived under their rulership, and its people prospered. Aelin and Rowan's children grew up in the mould of their parents, fiercely independent, more than willing to stand up against what they saw as injustice, and far too intelligent for their own good.

The twins were aware of what had happened the year they were born, and were determined not to let such a threat rise against their parents or the kingdom they all loved ever again. The twins also applied that same protectiveness to their younger brothers and sisters, wanting them to retain their childish innocence for as long as they could. Being the eldest, and therefore first in line for the throne, the twins had been forced to grow up fast, carrying out their duties with the same love and devotion as their parents.

Quite surprising, Fenrys, who had lost his own twin brother in the war, grew quite close to Aelin and Rowan's twins as they grew up. At first, spending time with the twins when they were children seemed to be a form of therapy for him. However, as the years passed, Fenrys slowly grew ever closer to his friends' daughter, with the two of them turning out to be mates when she grew up, shocking them all.

Rowan was beyond horrified by it all at first, unwilling to have, or even see see his oldest friends take advantage of his child. But slowly, as time passed and he grew more used to the idea, Rowan slowly began to accept it, especially after seeing how pure and honest Fenrys' feelings for his daughter were. After many internal and personal battles over the years, Rowan finally felt able to accept his old friend as his son-in-law.

Athril, who had taken the betrayal of Sam Cortland the hardest, took one day at a time and slowly built up the hard won mental strength he had once had during Brannon's lifetime once again. As Athril's mental health began to return to a semblance of normalcy, he truly began to see how much his behaviour that year had been affecting those around him.

And instead of continuing to push those who cared for him away, Athril slowly started to open up about what he had been going through, and to truly let them in. Being the proud man he was, telling his private thoughts and feelings wasn't exactly wasy for Athril, but it did get easier, and it really helped him to feel better. He became a better male for it.

About a year or two after the executions, Athril finally felt well enough, and stroung enough, to resume his duties as the premier leading spy of Terrasen. Thanks to Athril's tireless work, about fifty years later, he was able to prevent the outbreak of another war, not normally work one might have attributed to a spy.

Athril's relationship with Manon Blackbak continued to grow and deepen over the years. Eventually the witches of the Thirteen once again grew used to Athril's presence in their company after his long absence during his depression. After several years of happiness, they decided to marry. Athril's only wish on his wedding day was that he wished his old friend Brannon could have been there, standing by his side.

Lorcan and Elide's marriage, unfortunately, never survived the fallout, with the divorce being final roughly a year after the executions.

Elide may have been the one to have instigated the divorce proceedings, and for perfectly sound reasons, but when the divorve finally came through, many of Terrasen's nobles turned against her, simply because they believed it was scandalous for a Lady of Terrasen to be divorced. Ironically, many of those same nobles were the ones who had first supported her when petitioned the law courts for the divorce. But despite everything, Elide weathered the scandal marvolously well and never let anyone's prejudice break her. She merely picked herself up, brushed herself off, and moved on with her life. And was much, much happier for it.

Lorcan, on the other hand, never recovered from the shock of his wife leaving him. It had never occurred to him to consider the possibility of Elide leaving him to the extent of legally obtaining a divorce. Lorcan had thought that he had Elide to be so completely under his control that she would never even want to consider leaving him. Lorcan had thought that his beloved Elide would want to stay with him … forever. He had not taken neither Elide's stubborn tenacity into consideration nor the fact that Elide no longer loved him.

However, Lorcan found himself unable to remain in Orynth after the shock and scandal of the divorce. To his complete and utter annoyance and frustration he was unable to secure his freedom from the vow he had made to Aelin. This, added to the fact of the divorce, only increased Lorcan's sense of decreased manhood. Lorcan, unable to bear to remain in the city, yet unable to to leave the kingdom he had grown to hate so intently, moved into a small, self-contained, self-built little hut in the middle of the Staghorn Mountains. It was quite a downfall for the formerly mighty warrior of Queen Maeve of Doranelle.

The fate of Adarlan after the execution of Dorian Havilliard was an interesting one. Adarlan's southern neighbours of Fenharrow and Melisande had indeed snapped up large chunks of southern Adarlanian territory. Increasing the landsize and population of the two smallest kingdoms on the continent while severely decreasing Adarlan's size and population. Once the southern kingdoms had claimed their share of Adarlanian territory, almost everything south of the Avery River, leaving Adarlan with the cities of Rifthold and Annielle, but very little other southern cities, that left the fate of rest of Adarlan to be decided.

It took months of discussions between the different kingdoms, Adarlanian's temporary interim government and its relatively few surviving lords and ladies to choose a now monarch, a new ruling dynasty for Adarlan. The months of deliberations landed upon Chaol Westfall for Adarlan's next royal King.

Chaol was extremely reluctant to accept the responsibility of the job when it was offered to him. But it was the desire to see his kingdom set on the right path, a desire for a better future for Adarlan that eventually prompted him to accept the position. And so, almost a year after the death of Dorian, Chaol once again travelled south to Rifthold with his wife and small daughter. When Chaol had fled north with his family to Terrasen, he had never thought he would see either Rifthold or Adarlan again. Returning to the kingdom of his birth, knowing what his friend had done, what had become of him, was an extremely emotional experience for him. However, with the support of his family and friends, Chaol weathered his own personal emotional storm well.

And thus, with a new sense of united international cooperation, Erilea began to thrive and prosper. It had been an extremely long time since Erilea had seen this degree of peace and prosperity.


End file.
